#also the last ones hair is dark grey but i was lazy to change the red lineart and now she's a redhead lmao

[mmmteaaa]

Lmao why not

concept drawings and sketches of the story future characters.

(currently on page 4 of my word document writing angsty backstories wish me unluck)

ill give a hint on the floating girl on the top drawing in case you don't remember her:

She's a sdra2 extra who is mentioned (and shown) in a character(s) backstory

(and a sneak pic of a future character in snowdin town)

(my wife ilysm)

[hwaightme]

Essence

(masterlist) (perma-taglist)

🍃 pairing: bf!seonghwa x gn!reader 🍃 genre: heart-melting fluff, slight crack, established long-term relationship 🍃 summary: "i love the way that you're designed, love the way we intertwine, still don't need a reason why, you're beautiful and now you're mine" - you're beautiful by the rose 🍃 wordcount: 2.3k 🍃 taglist: at the end 🍃 warnings/tags: half edited half on the wings of hope, hugs kisses and cuddling, heart might hurt because of the love levels, quiet early mornings, rain, tickling, slightly suggestive, corny jokes and slang, dorky and sleepy couple with stars in their eyes, ode to hwa (simping) 🍃 a/n: i hope this provides some comfort <3 you're beautiful, adored, and shine brighter than the stars. notes, reblogs, comments always appreciated. much love!

Clouds of cotton and linen, a feathery warmth under the faint light of the early morning. If there was one word that you could choose to describe the light grey haze that pleasantly suppressed the vibrant colours of the world around you, waiting until you were to blink away the last inklings of sleep, it would be ‘fragile’. Somewhere between dream and reality was this translucent paradise, so easily missed, and yet, if you were to find yourself in it by a stroke of good fortune, you would want it to last forever. A moment suspended on a single shared breath, under a blanket of a lazy dawn. For the first time in a while, time was on your side.

No rush, no catastrophic cycle hurrying to sweep you up into its monstrous arms, carrying you away from your humble comfort. Both by fate and by extensive planning, you had a long weekend to look forward to, and could spend it exactly how you personally wished - the rain assured you of it. The soft pitter patter against the windows, the rooftop, the brick walls that protected you was music to your ears. Thanks to the awning that covered the windows to the left of the bed - on your side of choice, one of them could be left open a sliver, letting the enticing, lulling aroma of petrichor twirl through the air and caress you. A rustling of the leaves - an unforgettable performance by the huddle of trees, the crowns of which were just outside of your apartment. And you had all the time in this fast-moving world to pace yourself and listen, enjoy the sweetest music.

Your body was still drowsy, enjoying the cosiness of the bedsheets - not that you would even dare attempt to move, considering the gentle, loving arm that had crept onto and over you at some point during the night, and the head of its owner resting on your chest, dark tresses occupying your vision as soon as you looked down. Carefully, you moved a strand away from your boyfriend’s face, biting back a foolish grin when his onyx lashes fluttered at the sensation. His hair was getting longer, the observation passed through your mind as you continued to gingerly brush it with your fingers. In silence, you were able to regard change for what it was, and thanked the sun, moon, stars for letting you stay with the same person through them all.

As the raindrops continued falling, so did your absent-minded touches, in part, because you felt your partner hug you even closer, giving you an adorable grunt of approval even in the midst of sleep, but also, because you wanted to make sure that all of this was real. Grounding yourself in the tender embrace, you found peace and clarity. How did your life lead you to this heaven? So many memories intertwined to build to this moment, how many droplets of rain could that equate to? Would it be a lake? A sea? An ocean? Perhaps you would never find an answer, nor did you want to, because this was a trickling timescale you prayed would never halt. You did not notice that your hand had frozen in the air while you were caught up in your thoughts until a deep voice, laden with a befitting somnolent raspiness, led you back.

“Why’d you stop?”

You looked down again to see a mischievous side eye from none other than your boyfriend who, judging by the question, had been awake for some time.

“Good morning, Hwa. Since when is sleeping beauty not sleeping?” you quipped with a smirk, amused by the scrunching of his nose and a shy smile while he shuffled upwards, until his head was level with yours. 

“I’d think you would know when you woke up,” he countered, leaning onto one arm to use his other hand to cup your chin, guiding you closer to him and stopping a mere couple of centimetres away. You inhaled sharply, pretending to be exasperated. 

“No fair, I rizzed you first!”

“And I’m just making observations,” before you could answer, you felt his plush lips capture yours, his victorious smile consuming the whine that left you, “good morning, angel.”

“‘Morning, lovely,” you whispered, gaze taking in his eyes, his nose, his lips, cheeks, eyebrows - every detail that made Seonghwa who he was was priceless to you.

 His bare face, so stunning that no artist could ever fully depict it, but instead they would be contained in an eternal state of inspiration, having found their muse - selfless, starry-eyed, adoring. A universe contained in every expression, the light coating of blush on his cheeks, be it from the intensity of your observation or due to the mere minutes that passed since he had woken up, a perfect shade of love. Seonghwa; to become a star, indeed; he always shined the brightest. In his eyes was a purity unlike any other, both a reflection of his soul and how he perceived the rollercoaster life around him, even the simplest things turning into miracles. Heart to heart, it was easy for you to feel that in every beat was something greater, a blooming wonder. You fell quiet, instead choosing to stretch your arms wide and invite him impossibly close to you, a gesture that earned pure glee from him.

You felt a hand snake under your body, stopping at your side, meeting his other hand that returned to its position on top of you, and pushing you towards him. Breath running over your neck and collarbone, Seonghwa sighed at the warmth and nuzzled closer, peppering a couple of stray kisses over any skin he could reach. Your arm, which ended up serving as a support and rest for your boyfriend, wrapped around him, and you traced abstract shapes on his shoulder, exposed because of the black sleeveless tee he had chosen to wear, foregoing his usual glossy chrome silver attire. It was so natural, how you tilted your head to rest on top of his. How your left hand and his right intertwined, but not before hovering in midair, palm to palm, fingers flush against each other, reminding you of a day some time ago, back when you were not even officially dating but Seonghwa, overtaken by a sudden boldness, though of the endearing and boyish kind, had expressed a pressing curiosity of how the size of your hand compared to his. Now, you were pretty sure the only answer was: just right to be held by him since from that day on, Seonghwa had never really let go. Be it in a stray touch of the elbow, or a brush of the pinkies, or his leg moving to be right against yours, he was always making sure that you would not forget that he was there. Not that you particularly needed the reminders since Seonghwa would either way be at the forefront of your mind, but the closeness was an unimaginable, instant comfort. 

"It's raining," he mumbled, half to himself, tiredly regarding the vista.

"Mhm," you hummed back in agreement, not resisting the temptation to kiss the top of his forehead, making him look up at you, perfect dark orbs that reminded you of a certain brown sugar treat melting away even the smallest hint at a desire to get up.

"...wonder if worms go on dates," he pondered out loud, training his attention back to the maple and beech. You suppressed a snort, never failing to be amused by your boyfriend's unfiltered streams of consciousness, instead squeezing out a response between low chuckles:

"Are you about to ask me if I would still love you if you were a worm?"

"I know you would. You'd be the best worm wife," he shot back, sporting a cheeky grin as he squeezed you tighter. Ignoring how your heart accelerated at his choice of words, planting a seed of curiosity in your mind, you lightly slapped his shoulder.

"Yah, who says?"

"I'd annoy you until you do,"

"Hm… fair, fair," you pretended to consider, "but I won't be able to hug you like this," to prove a point, you curled into him.

“True, and I…” Still keeping a mischievous, enigmatic grin, Seonghwa wriggled out of his position, leaning towards you until you could feel his mouth right by your ear. Involuntarily, a shiver ran over you, making your boyfriend exhale sharply, satisfied. "I doubt I would be able to do this…" he planted a kiss right below your earlobe, and another, trailing downwards. Your flittering on his shoulder turned into a grasp for stability against his unwarranted, albeit alluring forwardness. “Or this,” he continued, using your temporary pliability to twist and tug you towards him until your back hit his broad chest and he could lock his arms around you, “Or-”

“Park Seonghwa, if you dare tickle me right now, I am not to be held resp-”

“Too slow-”

You yelped as you felt your boyfriend’s fingers attack your sides, making you break into a fit of giggles and swat at him, careful to avoid his face. He did not continue for long however, pausing as soon as a yawn disrupted him and instead choosing to embrace you once more and plant one noisy kiss on your cheek, their flushed state igniting an even stronger adoration. He rested his head on his hand with the elbow finding purchase on a white pillow, choosing to allow himself some space for simply acknowledging you.

He always had loving words to say about you - as time went by, he swore that this ability was innate, and that was the only way he could respond to you or describe you, but sometimes, even they fell short of encapsulating the emotional landscape shared, and just how you made him feel. From an ecstatic rush to a divine tranquillity, Seonghwa had found everything with you, and with you, even the biggest challenges turned into tiny setbacks. You balanced each other out. One could offer logic in a sensitive time for another, or provide a space in which to experience the lowest lows with no judgement, only unprecedented empathy. In the same way, both of you were each other's unwavering supporters, always there, always the loudest, always proud. Ready to celebrate success and small joys, be it a major event or an exciting moment in a video game, you simply fit together.

Seonghwa loved the way that you were designed, and the way that you two intertwined. Every day was an opportunity to be better, and he was glad that he could do it with you. In loving you, he found that he started to love himself more too, and it was thanks to this safety of the soul that had been discovered in your unity that he could play games, crack jokes, fully be himself. He noticed that you blossomed too - a freer, happier angel of light to grace this little blue planet, one who, with initial reassurance, had now taken flight and was now living the life that manifested hopes and wishes into a beautiful every day. Both as individuals, and as a couple, you grew to new heights, and that made minutes, hours like this even sweeter.

Now, it was your turn to roll back to spot an enamoured stare. Bashful, despite it having been  quite a number of years since you had felt his gaze like this for the first time, you rolled forwards, trying to hide your face, to which you heard a click of the tongue in response, and a firm hold of your wrist. Seonghwa kept your arm in place, resting his own over your waist, and once certain that you would not block him, tangled his fingers between your own.

Dawn.

Rain.

Time.

Seonghwa’s chest right against your back, his inhale, exhale lulling you back into a daze while the sky’s silver tears continued to transform your neighbourhood into a glimmering paradise. You wanted to be like this forever, snuggled close while in the middle of the storm that marked a transition from a fatigued summer to a chilly autumn. But even then, you knew you would be with your own sunshine.

“Already napping?” he teased, noticing how you had closed your eyes, and were progressively sinking further into your pillow. Not that he was doing something different, having collapsed behind you, disregarding the greenery outside, preferring to inhale the scent of your shampoo and forget the hours that the colour of the sky outside would hint at soon enough.

“Mm…” you were not bothered to give a proper response, nor were you particularly worried about your boyfriend not understanding you. He always did. Just like you understood him when he poked at the leg you were lying on to let him hook onto you - something of a habit, turned tradition, turned necessity. 

Hearts beating in time, connected in mind, body and soul. Like rain, you had fallen for one another, and soon enough, one droplet turned into two, into one thousand, into an ocean that spanned all of your favourite places. Neither of you were afraid of the occasional gloomy day, because as soon as you were to glance at one another, you would see a brightness previously deemed either inaccessible, or downright nonexistent. You relaxed fully into the feeling of Seonghwa’s arms around you. Safe, devoted, just so Seonghwa. He was a name, a noun, a verb, an adjective. Syllables, characters, letters that morphed into the synonym for love, and with every fibre of your being, you hoped would also mean ‘forever’. 

🍃 perma-taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @pyeonghongrie-main @marsstarxhwa @pocketjoong-reads @alyszaen @archivesummer @little-angel-k @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk

🍃 untaggable: @burnmepls (could be because of settings)

enjoyed? consider leaving a reblog, i'd love to chat <3

[sunthyme]

Ah... welcome to another instalment of my headcanons. I lowkey lied again but I think my prefect will be the last of the headcanons to come out. Tyty for all the love, as always, and now...

🪶The NRC Staff🪶

Trying to find characters I hadn't already twisted for my student ocs to make my staff ones was such a pain 😭😭😭 but here they are!!

🐦‍⬛Dire Crowley🐦‍⬛

(he/it) - Bisexual

The most USELESS HEADMASTER EVER!!! God, I know his SSR card looks great but I won't pull for it istg this bitch. We could have had Sam or Crewel but nooooo...

- I wanted him to look a bit older but since we don't know his age, I didn't push it too much. No spoilers for book 7 but I assume he's probably fae or smth idk.

- You'll notice I honestly didn't change much about the staff in general but I do like most of their design already. Kept his sclera dark cause it looked cool and made the gold eyes pop.

- He talks in a weird mix of old language that literally no one uses, like hella old-fashioned, and poorly used teen lingo. He's trying... A for effort, ig.

- His house and office are super cluttered with a ton of stuff he's found throughout the years but knows exactly where things are. His memory's actually incredibly good, he's just lazy. He likes to collect teaspoons.

- Later in the story, when he starts kinda view the prefect as his kid of sorts, it starts dropping off little trinkets at Ramshackle. Various things from old photos to books with old annotations to pretty rocks. He just wants the prefect to make the dorm 'more homey'.

- I'll get into this more with my prefect design but when Crowley attended NRC (in my headcanon idk if he actually did), he was a Ramshackle student. As such, my MC is using his old uniform as he didn't have any extra ones.

- He really likes cats but they just fcuking hate him. Lucius hisses everything he see Crowley. This is why he cries himself to sleep.

Enough of my dead-beat dad, onto the good dad!

🐕Divus Crewel🐕

(he/they) Transmasc - Panasexual

The good father-figure!! I love Crewel. Also, ignore me misspelling his name in the big one, I thought it had two 'l's...

- He is my Mexican father. Idk they give like simultaneously abuelita and Mexican mom vibes and I am so here for it. (Apparently also Jewish grandma vibes according to @thearchiveofalexandria but I wouldn't know lol).

- I also think he'd be older, like late 40s/early 50s but because of those anti-ageing Mexican genes, they look like 30. (Literally, my mom gets mistaken for being that young, she's in her 50s) Gave him some gray hair at the back but don't be fooled, that's just from putting up with Crowley's bullshit. The shit that goes down in-game for sure results in a couple grey hairs for poor Crewel.

- Is the father figure I never knew I needed, well, my prefect anyway. I know my MC would go to him for anything ranging from 'Crowley's threatening to cut off my water supply!' to 'Can you help me make a Halloween costume?' and his ass always helps. Stan Papa Crewel.

Oh god, this next one was HELL ON EARTH I hate drawing masculine men...

🏈Ashton Vargas🏈

(he/him) - Heterosexual

God, I hate Vargas' og design. The worst part is it does it's job, I couldn't find much to change. Also, didn't even know he had a first name lmaooo.

- I gave him more of a beard because it looked so fcuking bad without it ong 😭😭😭 I hated this... that's pretty much all I did.

- That being said, I do think Vargas wants the best for his students. Wait. Dad-bod Vargas. Guys, I just had an epiphany.

- He's got a wife, kids in like elementary school, and like two dogs idk. I feel like he's older thirties. He's giving total family man and likes to cheer on his students like they're his kids too.

- I feel like he's got mad ADHD and it's one of the reasons he became a gym teacher, just to be constantly moving and doing stuff.

My opinion of Vargas has increased while writing this. Onto my funky uncle...

🏷️Sam Cecil🏷️

(he/they/it) Genderqueer - Asexual Aromantic

I LOVE SAM!!📢📢

- They're like mid-twenties, I don't know if they went to college but if they did, they were a business major. I gave him a last name too, idk the fact that he didn't have one made me mad. Cecil cause Dr. Facilier had a daughter named Cecilia apparently.

- I tossed in a couple more piercings and I love the idea that he has tattoos too.

- He's like the fun uncle that occasionally sponsor your weird ideas. Wanna make cookies at 3am? His store's still open. Need some Nerf guns? He's got 'em. If he says it's in stock, he will literally have anything. Don't ask, he won't answer you anyway.

- Also has crazy good like and low-key knows the future but typically drops hints in a joking manner. He's also very good at communing with the dead, sales for sessions are discounted in October.

- Incredibly rich. Probably canon given his store branches and the crazy shit he has in his shop but I felt the need to reaffirm it.

- Also supplies Ramshackle with snacks and groceries. My MC works at its shop part time in return but I firmly believe that it'd refuse to let the MC starve.

Now for the gramps,

📚Mozus Trein📚

(he/him) Transmasc - Heterosexual

- Trans old man, idk. He is to me. Also, he's both the history and literature teacher.

- Also changed pretty much nothing lol, he's just an old trans man whose sick of Crowley's bullshit (you'll notice a running theme).

- All the grandpa memes and stereotypes are so true for him. His drinks tea every afternoon, plays chess with Crewel (that's canon btw), and squints whenever you try to show him something, especially on a phone.

- He uses a flip phone mobile-y but his house has a rotary one. His daughters keep telling him to replace it but he refuses, saying modern one are too complicated. His daughters also went to Royal Blade as he originally worked there before recently transferring to NRC.

- Hates pumpkin-flavoured anything so doesn't care much for fall. Winter is his favourite season though as he loves sitting with Lucius by the window on snowy days and reading. Very academiacore, gramps.

- He totally advocated for NRC to allow students to use preferred names.

Onto the ocs!!

🪐Mèng yáo Yuan🪐

(she/they/it) Agender - Biromantic Demisexual

- First up is Mèng yáo, twisted from the Horned King from The Black Cauldron. Never seen it personally but @thearchiveofalexandria has and recommended I use its villain.

- She's Chinese and a fae of sorts so she's likely quite old, though she looks in her twenties.

- She's the astrology and philosophy teacher because I thought it would make for a good course since it's mentioned in passing in Book 4.

- She's also skilled in potionology and she and Crewel test out potions for Crewel to teach in class. She is intrigued by the concept of immortality but it's more of a passive study for her.

- She's really bad at getting jokes, though she tries. She's generally not too familiar with modern human concepts but does her best to learn.

Finally,

💎Kore Gorgon💎

(she/her) - Sapphic

- Kore is based on Madame Medusa from The Rescuers, which, fair warning, I ALSO haven't seen. I really needed villains though lol. I read the wiki page and prayed tbh.

- She's around her mid-fifties and is the Math and Physics teacher. She works to integrate known magical physics with standard math and physics and teaches such.

- Her wife is named Crystal (based on an inspo character for Madame Medusa) and they're Kyra's adoptive parents. This is a small nod to Madame Medusa having two pet crocodiles. Kyra kept her parent's names as a sort of way to remember them but likes her adoptive moms a lot too.

- Kore's name is a reference to another name for Persephone and is associated with not only 'the maiden' with the underworld as well.

- She loves shiny things and adores being dressed to the nines all the time. She has a small collect of pretty rocks and tends to decorate her classroom with various trinkets.

- She and Crewel get along super well as their personalities are rather similar. (Fun fact: Madame Medusa not only was heavily inspired by Cruella De Vil, but also served as an origin for Ursula's design.)

- She has bipolar disorder and does her best to work around it, sometimes having pre-recorded lectures if she's not able to be in person.

I'll be sharing my designs for some side and family characters tomorrow so stay tuned! Love y'all!🩷🩷🩷

[stitchpunk1]

YO GUESS WHOS HERE TO TALK ABOUT HAZBIN FANKID OCS BITCHES!

Yeah Ive been wanting to do this for a bit but been super fucking lazy. Got some other fandom ones too I wanna talk about but what with Hazbins first season ending wanna talk about mine with a few tweaks I've done plus one I forgot to add in the last one. I will put this one under spoilers sense the eps just came out and now I have to change shit around till season two for a few of them.

First I have Lucy(used to be Mara and cliche name I know but i like it). She is Charlie and Vaggies kid and named after her grandpa(who spoilers her fucking ROTTEN). Kinda got a design in my head for her that goes with a lamb/goat theme because she is half demon and half angel. Shes got charlies blond hair but more in Vaggies short style and its slightly curly. Shes also got the little hooves, sheep ears and eyes are that horizontal goat type. Like before she is still an absolute artist and loves doing bigger art installations around hell. She ends up dating Husks daughter Heather when they get older.

Second we have Isabella who is by blood Angel and Alastors daughter but her other dad is Husk and sister is Heather. Still got the same design for her that shes a bit more centaur deer like. Shes got the ears(and tail because I'm not giving that headcanon up) of Alastor but with Angels color scheme and fur and kinda a mix of spider claws/hooves(trying to picture her like head/hair in my mind has been a BITCH trying to not just think of it as a carbon copy of Angel). Recently she has become absolutely fucking unhinged as a child in discussions with Musekicker. She is 100% a cannibal and loves to take bites out of people out of pure curiosity of how they taste(leading to many many child leashes that she usually manages to chew her way out of). I like to think that she becomes popular on the hell version of tiktok with cottagecore vibes with a mix of her cannibalism. Dunno why but I like to think that if Alastor sheds his antlers she collects them and makes them into headbands she wears(also uses them to stab people).When older she ends up dating Moxxie and Millies daughter Mable.

Heather is just Huskys by blood and a one night stand but after becoming a couple with Angle and Alastor they become her parents too and Isabella her sister. Every time I think of her design all I can picture is something like Sawyer from Cats Dont Dance. Shes mostly white with a bit of her dads dark grey. Her face all around is just a pure resting bitch face even if she isnt mad or in a bad mood("its literally just my face" is something she has to say a lot). Her biggest secret is how much she LOVES to sing especially musicals and wants to be a stage performer but she thinks she could never make it. She does start to try out in school or any local theater productions thanks to Lucys encouragement. I like to think that after quitting Mammon that even Fizz sometimes does shows for fun and he kinda mentors her after seeing her talent.

Two more to go! Vea is Val and Voxs little accident that they just decide to keep around. She looks mostly like a moth demon but more bluish and sometimes has a little bit of electricity that goes between her antenna. Shes pretty powerful as she can sometimes match Voxs powers if he say fucks around and locks electronics or tv channels. She ends up not exactly running away from home but just kind of wandering away as her parents pay her little to no mind. She ends up at the hotel and kinda taken in by everyone after they learn her story. She ends up becoming the hotels electrician and is fucking terrified of Niffty.

Lastly is one I forgot on my last post who I am not sure what to do with her after the last episode. Her name is Pia and she is Pen and Arackniss kid. Body type she looks mostly like Niss with a little snake tail but she can go full naga like with extra arms/legs when she wants. She has a hood/hair like Pen and is insanely venomous(took me like ten tries to fucking spell that right) do to being half snake/spider. If Pen is in heaven whenever these kids are around she is raised by Niss who stays around the hotel more to take care of her/keep her from his father(who you know is a fucking prick). When he isnt around Angel takes care of his niece. Shes mostly quiet and keeps to herself but she loves weapons of all kinds, being an absolutely crack shot with most firearms.

[red-riding-wood]

Chapter 1

OC: Aleera

Fandom: Game of Thrones / ASOIAF

Summary: Former protector of the last Targaryens and bastard daughter of the Mad King Aerys, Aleera ventures to Westeros in search of the family she's never known, and finds herself swallowed by a world of cruelty, ambition and lies... She must leave behind her heart to survive, and, like her ancestors, forge her path through fire and blood. Madness and greatness, they say, are two sides of the same coin, and may the world hold its breath to witness how this coin lands.

Warnings: (for entire story) angst, graphic violence, gore, cursing, sexual assault, graphic sexual content, incest, torture... standard GoT stuff. I'm not holding back with this story so if you're not a fan of dark or disturbing content this is not for you. Also future Ramsay x OC and Petyr x OC and those two are their own warnings.

~ Combines content from Game of Thrones TV series and the ASOIAF books. Some canon changes are made to suit the story. ~

“Here, allow me,” my sister spoke, her voice a murmur and her fingers like silk as they wove themselves through my long, tangled hair. She had always been soft-spoken, unless the fire awoke in her. Her voice was soothing, in these rare moments when I did not allow my envy to pervade my mind.

And while I initially relaxed under her touch, watching as she undid the snares in my locks, I could not help but allow my gaze to linger on the pale silver of hers, the arcane violet of her gentle eyes. Mine stared back a dull, cold grey that I could only imagine must have belonged to my mother, much like the red hair that came from being born of a Tully. Though only a half-sibling to Daenerys, I was twice the Targaryen she was. But it was hidden beneath the markings of a mutt.

“Do you know when your wedding is?” Daenerys asked me softly. “I wish to see you before I am pledged to Khal Drogo.”

My mouth pinched into a bitter line.

“Viserys hasn’t said.” As much as I tried, I could not hold the spite from my tongue, though I believed she would perceive its aim to be at our brother, who had made the arrangements.

“You haven’t asked?” Daenerys seemed genuinely surprised; out of the two of us, I had always been the more headstrong, even with the brother who proclaimed himself the last dragon.

“I have,” I said. “I believe he is still negotiating for a higher price.”

The only time my brother had ever called me a Targaryen was when he was selling me to amass wealth and soldiers for the army he planned to march on Westeros, the origin of each of our births. The land of the Seven Kingdoms, and the fabled Iron Throne he claimed awaited him.

Dany’s expression turned rather grave at that. Neither of us wanted to be sold like cattle, nor did we want to part from each other. Despite living in her winged shadow, we shared a bond that would never break, no matter how wretched my disdain grew.

“Viserys thinks Khal Drogo’s army will carry out his wishes when I am wed. At least with the gold, he can hire mercenaries loyal to his purse. Let us hope that he settles for less than you are worth.”

While Dany was being sold to the great horse lord of the Dothraki, I was offered to a wealthy magister in Pentos, a man whose name I had never heard uttered before my brother had told me the news. And while my sister would become a khaleesi, a queen of a warrior tribe, I would be nothing more than a housewife to one of Illyrio’s lazy aristocratic friends. Of what use would my swordsmanship be, my years of protecting my family from the many vile creatures and men in Essos? And of what would become of my sister’s soft skin and feather-like hair? When would the Dothraki break her gentle heart?

“And what am I worth?” I dared to ask, stiffening.

Her fingers didn’t cease their rhythm, not even now that she was making intricate braids from the outer layers of my hair. Her violet eyes didn’t even meet the biting steel of mine in the mirror. And she said,

“Sister, there is no sum of gold that could ever be worth your company.”

The thorns around my heart softened a bit at that, but guilt gnawed at my chest. I wondered, sometimes, if she was completely unaware of my envy of her.

“What of an army?” I asked.

The line of her mouth quirked into a smile, and she said, “There is no sum of men, either.”

---

The Dothraki had come for my sister when the sun was highest in the sky, the hooves of their mounts thundering through the snaking paths of the hills to announce themselves before they spilled into the courtyard, bare-chested warriors butting shoulders as their steeds snorted and bayed. Reins pulled taught and black, wild eyes flashed as their riders brought them to heel.

The entire ceremony had lasted less than a quarter of an hour, and not a word was spoken other than those I’d heard Viserys whisper into Dany’s ear, pointing out the long braids down Khal Drogo’s back. Each braid signified a battle won; the Dothraki cut their hair after every defeat. If it was fear or awe that had stricken my sister’s face, I was certain not, but I would never forget it. Nor would I ever forget the sinking feeling when she had strode towards her new king, could never forget how emptiness weighed so heavy in my gut.

Viserys had sent me away shortly after the meeting, wishing to seek council with Magister Illyrio, the man who had opened his doors to the three of us nearly a year ago. He had aided my brother in finding suitors for us both, was a believer in Viserys’ claim to the Iron Throne and wanted to bleed him dry of a king’s generosity.

All I knew was that Dany had come sobbing to me afterward, that she had tried to speak against her union to Khal Drogo, that our brother had uttered words so vile to her that they still echoed in my own ears. And while I dreaded my own dinner tonight with my suitor, while I found myself grimacing at the thought of having to cook for him and watch him grow fatter over the years, of having to clean his bed sheets each night after he used myself or one of his whores, of never again feeling the weight of a sword in my hand or my sister’s fingers through my hair, my heart could not help but fracture from her own miserable fate as her tears dampened the fabric of my gown. And though I would have traded places with her in a heartbeat, though I had always wished to be her, I had put aside my resentment and told her to be stoic, to let her tears fall quietly when Khal Drogo would take her purity. She was so fragile, yet she needed to be strong. I needed her to be strong. 

Now, sun swept the bathhouse in a blanket of gold; dusk was within the hour, snaking its talons beneath the awning of the balcony overlooking the sandy hills of the Pentos outskirts and glittering off the colourful masonry of the bath’s walls. Tousled curtains of ridiculous proportion billowed from the great gusts of wind that poured into the every crevasse of the building and threatened to chill me past the dampened fabric of my gown. One of Illyrio’s servants scurried from my sight with the last urn of soiled water from my sister’s earlier bath, sandals landing heavily against the stone as I descended the steps. I could still picture Viserys handing her the fine silk she had worn for Khal Drogo, could still taste the bile on my tongue when I watched his hands wander across her naked form. As the servants slipped dragon pins that I would never wear through the shoulders of the light garment.

My wrath burned like fire beneath my skin, drummed against my chest like the hooves of the Dothraki stallions, and split the quiet of the building as I practically roared my brother’s name,

“Viserys!”

One of the curtains whipped and curled around itself as the wind changed direction, before blowing back with another gust of wind that stirred the curls from my shoulders and revealed the bright red robes of Illyrio, surprise flashing across a pudge face as a bearded mouth parted to speak.

But, ushering him aside, was my half-brother, tall yet thin in frame and leaning to bark something in the man’s ear. Whatever he said, it was disagreeable to our host, who seemed all the more shocked by his words, but pinched his mouth shut and disappeared along the balcony.

Pain flared where my nails had dug into the palms of my hands, only noticeable when I peeled my fingers from my fists. Viserys knew better than to hit me; it was not a physical battle I would need to win today but one of words, and I could never twist and morph them into such sweet yet false promises as he did, could only spit them like hellfire as its flames licked at my throat and boiled my blood so hot it threatened to consume me. 

And while I should have been silent, should have kept my protest and my sister’s admittances to myself, I could bear the echoes no longer.

“You are calling it off,” I ordered him, tone dark as the stallions’ eyes that had flashed at me in the courtyard. “You are calling it off – the wedding, Khal Drogo, the khaleesi and khalasar, so help me, by the gods, I will – “

My words were extinguished in a shattered breath as my brother’s finger rose to my lips, and he said to me, “Hush, dear sister. Do you wish to wake the dragon?”

My lip curled around my teeth as I glared up at him, meeting the lilac of his glittering eyes and taking note of the subtle yet gloating line of his smirk. As the sole surviving male Targaryen of the Rebellion, he had proclaimed himself the “last dragon”, though he had all the strength of a child still pink in its skin, and his foolishness was only at times mistaken for courage by imbeciles like Illyrio and the servant girls who frequented his quarters.     

“If I must,” I growled.

“Khal Drogo is already expecting his bride come their wedding. I cannot withdraw my end of the bargain now. He would have all our heads.”

It was to be expected that my brother had chosen to weasel his way into a situation that could only benefit him but had mortal repercussions for his family. And it was only natural that he was attempting to use fear as a means to quell my fury.

“Then call off my marriage, and let me go with her, to protect her. As I have always done,” I suggested, trying not to let the desperation creep into my tone.

Viserys’ finger reached to brush a lock of hair from my face; I had undone Dany’s braids earlier and it must have made me unpresentable. I witnessed his smirk twist into a displeased line when pale eyes examined my face, felt my heart quicken in my chest, my blood boiling yet my stomach fluttering.

Though he looked about to comment on my unkempt appearance, his eyes wandering from my wild hair to my tear-stained gown, he said,

“She does not need the protection of a girl who thinks herself a warrior when she will have an army of the most vicious fighters at her side.”

I could not bring myself to draw from the touch that I craved, but his words stirred the hellfire in my chest and I practically spat in his face, “You said you would let every one of those ‘viciousfighters’ fuck her – and their horses, too, if it meant reclaiming your throne. And tales of the Dothraki and their brutality do not go unsung in any corner of Essos.”

Of all the dangers in this cruel world, it was not the rapers nor the thieves nor even the assassins sent by the usuper, but our brother she needed protection from the most.

Not a trace of doubt shadowed Viserys’ glittering eyes as he told me, as if speaking to a child, “She needed to understand how important my conquest is.” His deft fingers fell from my cheekbone and settled on my shoulder, thumbing at the fabric of my gown.

“Your conquest?” I spat, and his flinch came as a simple yet earned satisfaction. “Your army and your gold is bought by selling your family. Is this really how you want the great song of your reign to begin? How can you even expect to continue your dynasty, that you insist to be so pure? You cannot expect to wed Daenerys, not when she is pledged to Khal Drogo, and – ”

“Daenerys will mother my heir.” These words, spoken so calmly amidst the storm of my fury, brought mine to a slamming halt in my chest, my lungs screaming for air and my lips parted in a silent plea as a knife twisted between my ribs.

My brother’s hand slid to my other shoulder as his body pressed against mine, and his soft lips brushed the tingling flesh of my neck. I was paralysed, captive to his venomous touch and his cold words. “Khal Drogo will not be able to refuse a king,” he whispered in my ear, and I shut my eyes to find a tear suspended on my lash, now streaking down my cheek. Viserys worked the fabric of my gown from my shoulders, the winds outside now sweeping a chill across burning flesh, the garment tumbling slowly down to my breasts.  “And neither will you, dear sister. When my army marches on the Red Keep, we will pay that usurper back with fire and blood, and I will ascend to my throne, and the people will cheer, and you will hear great songs about me from the bards in Essos.” I could almost feel the heat from his body and the fire of his touch melting my fury away into yearning. I leaned into him, if only slightly, a soft moan catching on my tongue as he groped at my breasts through the fabric that would only fall at his whim. “And tonight, you bed not a prince, but a king. The one, true king.”

And just as he released the fabric, I stole myself from my trance and I tore my body from his, tugging the sleeves of my gown back over my shoulders. His visage was blurry past my unshed tears, the silver of his fine hair undulating beneath the dusk’s blanket of rich gold so befitting of a king.

“Take me with you,” I pleaded, nearly breathless.

A grin so wide it came sickening to my stomach stretched across his features, and I blinked, his high cheekbones and his furrowed brow and his scornful eyes sharpening. “How absurd. Of what use would you be to me when I am king? Is it my throne you desire?”

I swallowed lead. And when my lips formed the confession, my voice was quiet, so quiet it mimicked the gentle whisper of a lover,

“It is not a throne I desire.” I looked him deep in his eyes, forcing back the new hail of tears that threatened me, and from his look I could tell that he knew what I meant to say, that mayhaps, in all our years of growing together as siblings, he finally understood me.

“You foolish girl,” he chuckled, the baritones of his voice loveless. “You want to be my queen.”

My fury surged again in my chest, stirred by the pain that had burrowed itself deep in my soul, and I suddenly found my voice as my tears streamed freely down my face,

“All I’ve ever wanted was to be worthy enough for this family, to be by your side.”

For you to look at me the way you do Daenerys. To speak of me not as a bastard but a Targaryen.

But I once more bit my tongue, a slave to my desires.

“Aleera, you are not a queen. You are a bastard – a whore, like your mother. Your blood is tainted, your flesh sullied by scars. You throw yourself at any man willing to offer a copper for your bedside.” If my words were fire, his were poison, sinking deep into the marrow of my bones, chilling my boiling blood.

Past his soured expression, I studied the beauty of his face – the fairness of skin that I had once known to be filthier, stretched gaunter over pointed cheekbones, before Illyrio had come along. The face of the Beggar King. Even then, I had found him handsome.

But each scar that had not tarnished his flawless skin nor my sister’s had scored cruel through mine, and I wore the stench of blood and steel to his bed, blood as red as the hair and steel as sharp as the eyes that marked me as half-bred.

And when I told my sister stories of my skirmishes and thievery and whoring, I looked upon her ethereal face that mimicked my brother’s so, and I would have given anything for her silver hair and her pale lashes, and the light rose of her cheeks, and the soft skin I knew my brother favoured.

And each time I bid her goodnight, I cursed the gods others prayed to for these differences that made me an outsider.

Years of this torment frothed at my tongue as I rose my voice, shaking, in more fury or fear I could tell not,

“You would be dead if not for my scars, brother. Each was earned protecting this family. Each meant another week that you could live. And each man I bed meant another meal to fill your aching belly.”

Each another step from the acceptance I craved.

“And I would do it all again, for you and my sister,” I told him, my tears still falling unbidden to my breathless lips. “I may not be your family, Viserys, but you were mine.”

 And there it was. That awful, simple word. Were.

Now that mud no longer caked his clothing and hunger no longer gnawed at his gut and he slept in a bedchamber rather than a gutter, now that he was to be a true king rather than a beggar, I was no longer necessary. I would be gone, in a day, or two. Mayhaps sooner if he could be rid of me. And I would forget that beautiful face, slowly, as I spent the rest of my life serving someone who never made my stomach flutter as he once had.

And I needed to let go.

My gown swept across the floor as I turned to stalk across the bathhouse, towards the winds of Pentos that howled into the deathly silence of Illyrio’s seaside domain.

“Aleera!” Long fingers curled around my wrist, tightening so firm the flesh would surely bruise, and my head snapped around, my cold eyes surely shooting sparks as I let my gaze fall so tragically on the face that I would remember, for a time, not as my brother, but as the man who’d sold me.

“Do not ever touch me again,” I hissed, and shook him off as virulently as his own touch had landed upon me. And though uttering such words split my heart in two, twisted the knife deeper past my screaming ribs, I knew that it was always meant to be this way, that I was never anything to him but a means to an end and another body to warm his bed.

---     

Each tide that drew back into the sea seemed to steal a piece of my heart with it, and each wave that crashed against the rocks below echoed my fury. I clenched and unclenched my fists where they rested on the sandstone railing, nails stinging my palms. Dark clouds crowned the bright of the sunset, and the winds swept sand into the frantic air and commanded the sea with an iron trident.

My sight rested where the sea gave the illusion of stretching forever into the light fog that crept along the water, and each time the chill of the western winds buffeted my face I could almost feel the beyond calling to me.

But it was not the Narrow Sea that called, but rather, the continent known as Westeros, the land of my birth and the home of my alleged mother, who in her late years came to be known as Catelyn Stark, wed to Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell and Warden of the North. A powerful title, and a powerful name; the Starks were one of the longest standing houses in Westeros, and commanded a vast, near barren stretch of land until the Wall of the Night’s Watch barricaded them from northern savages known as wildlings. Snow was said to fall from the sky, shadowcats and mountain lions and wolves said to prowl the lands, and great, white trees with leaves red as blood stretched into the heavens of the oldest gods.

My adopted mother had died giving birth to Dany when I was barely out of the womb, but a knight named Ser Willem Darry had smuggled us three children across the Narrow Sea to the Free Cities of Essos, in which he purchased a beautiful manor to raise us until I was the age of nine and Viserys the age of thirteen, when King Robert Baratheon’s assassins burnt it to its foundations. In his rebellion, he had usurped my father, The Mad King Aerys, the second of his name, and had commanded that every Targaryen be executed to ensure his claim to the throne and his dynasty.

As one of the last Targaryens, my mother Catelyn had given me to Dany and Viserys’ mother, Rhaella Targaryen, for my own safety. It was because of Ser Willem and Viserys that I knew these things about the mothers I’d never had, about the father who’d burned cities, about the houses that waged wars across the sea.

And while I had always yearned to seek the mother who had been forced to give me up as an infant, who probably still cried for me as I did for her still, I had always been needed here in Essos, to take care of this family that was never truly my own.

I would bring Dany there, to the North, where my birth mother would welcome me back as her eldest child, where my sweet, innocent sister could be free of Khal Drogo and our cruel brother.

Where he can never touch her again, a venomous part of my mind added as lead formed once more on my tongue. Where she cannot bear his children.

“Sister?”

I flinched at the soft lull of her voice, and when I turned to behold her, I found myself snapping with a still-virulent tone, “What do you want from me?”

Though evidently taken aback, fear dashing through bright, arcane eyes, she was calm when she spoke, “I overheard some of your words with Viserys.”

My stomach churned, and my heart seemed to clench in my chest. “How much?”

“Enough,” she said, and took a step forward, but no more. “I don’t mean to cause you pain, sister… I only wish to help ease it as you did mine.”

When I looked at her face, I saw the silver-haired beauty who had always overshadowed me, had always been more wanted. And when I looked at the silks that were draped across a now womanly figure, I thought of Viserys shedding them, thought of his hands entwining themselves into those silver locks as they once had mine. I foresaw her belly, swelling with his child, and it was all I could do to muzzle my rage.

“I’d rather be alone,” I said bitterly, turning my gaze back to the writhing sea and hunching over the railing with an almost petulance.

“I don’t want Viserys. Not in the way he…” Dany trailed off, her words nearly swept away by the winds.

I whirled on her, my heart clenching tight in my still-aching chest as I hissed, “Not in the way he wants you. Did you come here to remind me of that? Are you here to tell me that you don’t want Khal Drogo as well, that you don’t want to be a queen?”

While I would never wish to be pawned off by my own brother, in any circumstance, I wasn’t certain my sister realised how greater an honour it was to be sold to such a dangerous, prominent man than a nobody who happened to carry a large purse. And unlike my sister, I knew the Dothraki would not break me. If anything, I could learn to turn them against Viserys. Break free.

Dany’s eyes were more sad than fearful now, and something about them made my heart splinter. I closed my eyes, exhaling, realising that I was mayhaps unjust with my words.

Turning once more to the railing, I said, voice lowering, “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.” My fingers curled into another fist to quell my rage as I forced the image of her from my mind. “None of this is your fault.”

After a pregnant pause, and a few mournful cries of the gulls, Daenerys stepped beside me, her footfalls silent but her presence indicated by the sweet perfume Illyrio had gifted her. And she told me, plainly,

“I had a dream.”

I sighed. My sister had always thought her dreams had meant something; when she dreamt of the three of us prospering with mountains of gold and an army at our heels as we marched back to Dragonstone, the isle of Dany’s birth, she’d told me it would someday come true. When she dreamt of horrible monsters emerging from the darkness – likely a result of overhearing the priestesses who pledged themselves to the Lord of Light – she asked me to watch over her the next night closely with my sword.

“Please, spare me,” I said, imagining that she was about to try cheering me up with some pointless illusion. “Nothing but cruel tricks from the gods, no doubt.”

But she spoke anyway, her fingers landing across the railing adjacent to mine and her silver curls whipping back from her face as she stared into the blackening sunset,

“I dreamt of two dragons, one of ice and the other fire; one of silver scales and the other a crimson as blood red as your hair. The red dragon seemed to claw itself from the other, rising above it in a black sky.” Her head tipped back to regard the first stars emerging in the hollowness above. “And then both were swallowed by each other’s flame. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now I wonder if it has come true. If the dragons are meant to be you and Viserys.”

I scoffed. Dragons had not existed for nearly a century, though tales of the great beasts tamed by my Targaryen ancestors were always favoured by mummers and bards. But it was her interpretation of the dream that baffled me most.

“Viserys is no dragon,” I said, my lip curling with more than a slight disdain.

“No,” she said, her voice soft but assured. “But you are.”

Something winked in the last, fading rays of the sun, and I looked to what she held out to me in shock.

The pendant was of the three-headed dragon, the sigil of the Targaryen house. The intricacy of the craftsmanship detailed even the ridges along the slender necks that reared above the body of the beast, its maws gaping and tongues as sharp as its teeth. I could not help but run my fingers across the silver-hued jewelry in awe, thumbing at the tightly woven chain that bound the circular pendant.

“Valyrian steel.” Though I had suspected it mainly from the ripples that ran through the metal like markings along the dragon, I could confirm it now that I held its unusually light weight in the palm of my hand. Few remnants of Old Valyria remained, but there were some blacksmiths and jewelers who still knew how to reforge the rare metal of our ancestors.

My heart swelled, warm and whelming, in my chest, mending the fracture the sight of her had carved moments ago. When I looked up at her again, everything about my demeanor must have softened, for my eyes were swathed again in unshed tears, and she bore a small yet loving smile, violet eyes glittering in the quickening dark. I glimpsed the silver dragons that Viserys had pinned to her silks, and I no longer looked upon them with envy, but rather, a strength that emerged deep from my soul and bound me to the one person who had always been there for me, who may, in fact, still have been my family.

Rendered speechless, another silence passed between us before she spoke, “No matter where our paths take us, promise me, Aleera…” Her fingers gently folded mine over the pendant. “… that we will always be sisters.”

The tear was warm against my cheek as it shed, and the smile that quirked my lip was genuine. I held the necklace to my chest, tightly as if in fear of it being swept away by the winds. And I realised that not all of my heart was torn empty.

“I promise.”

NEXT CHAPTER

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[pawsimses]

Brainrot Trash Idea about Shin and Baylan

So I've been seeing a fair amount of stuff about Baylan and Shin, and bc I'm a Sucker for Father-Daughter characters, decided to play with a few headcanons. None of which are remotely close to Canon and a few AUs bc I can.

General HC Rambling

* Shin is Baylan's actual daughter. Yeah, I know she's (99%) not in canon but look. The idea of Baylan having and then training his own daughter to be something greater than the Jedi lives rent-free in my head.

* He got Shin from a young age to refer to him as "Master" instead of "Father" for both their sakes. Smother the risk of attachment and keep them both safer should the Empire catch on. (Jokes on him, because both of them are very attached to each other).

(For Shin, there actually isn't a real difference between terms; for her, calling him "Master" is her just saying "Father". He is her father, not her mentor, in her POV. She just uses a different word is all. (Help them, plz)).

* On that not of terminology, been thinking and I know it's probably just a harmless/unimportant honorific, but the fact Baylan has the title of Lord makes my brain go "what if Baylan was actually of noble origins?". Which then shifts into "Shin having a separate last name from her father is due to Baylan gifting her his mother's maiden name, for the same reasons he has her refer to him as her mentor instead of parent". It's also a way, in his twisted mind, to honor his family nobility when he himself failed it (by being a Jedi).

(Also imagine the Skoll/Hati family coat of arms being *wolves*)

* I even got genealogy HC worked out cause- "well Shin doesn't look like Baylan". And yes but hear me out: she takes after another relative of his (sister, mom, aunt, grandmother, etc.). Maybe she reminds him of his mom, idk. But if so, maybe that's why he gives her the surname Hati? As a quiet honoring? Either way, she takes after his family members, just not him strictly lol.

* (I'll be honest, her hair looked dyed and frankly speaking, I do HC Baylan as being a dark brunette before he went full Grey, so not a far stretch to also consider her inheriting his hair at least.)

* Back on the Hati surname, thinking more also led to "its a family name but farther back in lineage before it got changed to Skoll somewhere down the line". Kinda like how the Bakarn family in SWTOR used to be the Bakvalens before it got changed to a more common surname. Either way, the name Skoll puts a target on Shin's back and Baylan isn't taking that risk.

* (Ngl, part of me now wants to play w the idea of Baylan actually being a descendant of the Bakarn family. Idk if he'd be related to Syo tho, for obvious reasons.)

*Regarding upbringing, Baylan was a single dad front day 1, raising Shin on the run. Who the other parent is or if she even has one, no one knows. (Mostly bc I'm lazy and single dad Baylan lives rent free in my head). They mostly drifted from place to place, never really calling somewhere home. Hence another reason why Shin is very attached to Baylan; he's her only source of stability. He is "home".

*Leaving Shin was hard for her, but it was also hard for Baylan. It's not that he doesn't love his daughter. He absolutely does. But he's driven by personal ambition to seek this unknown power on this strange world and that takes priority. And truthfully, it's dangerous. He knows it's dangerous. But it calls to him in a way he can't ignore. In a way Shin can't hear. And if For her sake. Even if tearing away from her rips him in pieces; it's dangerous what he's doing and he won't drag her into it.

(Mentally he tells himself he's doing this all for her. For a better future, for her.)

(Shin, of course, is too attached to her father to actually leave the planet.)

AU VERSE HC

On another hand, been seeing a fair amount of Baylan/Morgan content lately and THAT got me thinking of "Shin is a Baylan/Morgan child". Which...

-Half-Dathomiran Shin. Half-Dathomiran Shin with Morgan's markings.

-Shin whose been raised by a human most of her life, who isn't at all attuned to her Nightsister half. Who doesn't really know Morgan and probably is unaware she's her parent.

-Shin who isn't attuned to her Nightsister heritage, suddenly experiencing summons of green fire and magic when her parents leave her behind for their own paths.

Nightsister-Dark Jedi hybrid class Shin Hati.

[nataywrites]

Hello there! I hope you are well today. It's cloudy here, but bright too. The clouds are faintly yellowed by the dust and illuminated by the sun shining through them. So bright that the glossy, emerald leaves of the maple tree outside my window reflect back the hue of the clouds where the light catches them. The wind gently tousles the leaves as if it was a giant hand running fingers through hair and the boughs bounce with the shifting air.

I haven't been outside yet today. Everything I see is through the glass of my window, which is spotted with fingerprints and dust. I know there are things I need to be doing, but it is so hard to lift myself from this spot. Executive function is not always my strong suit, and right now is the perfect example of that fact. I'm not lazy, though I know some others might describe me that way. Others that have no more perspective into my life than the bright clouds above.

What needs to be done can wait, because right now I have something more important that needs attending. I must tell you about yesterday. I must tell you, because it will do you, my friend-family, some good and I can begin the slow process of grasping the intimate act of submitting to strangers my very insides. The parts of me that not even I have seen the inside of. A place as alien to me as the moon, and yet I needn't travel so far to reach it.

Yesterday, I woke at 2:30 with my first alarm. It was still dark outside, and the birds wouldn't start chirping until about 4am. I waited the fifteen minutes until I could start the second half of my prep, a foul concoction so sweet it made my jaw clench as I gulped it down by the glassful. The most disgusting lemonade I've ever had- it is hard to ruin lemonade! Propylene Glycol is very good at ruining lemonade. It is also really good at emptying a person. I finished the prep and waited until it was time to wake Addie for the drive.

When we left, I wanted to drive past my parent's house so I could wave at the window. Even though I knew they were likely busy preparing for their trip and wouldn't be in the family room, I still waved. Sometimes we need to say goodbye to someone, even silently, for our own sake. Not a permanent goodbye. I needed to say goodbye to them because it is my act of loving them from afar and wishing them a safe and delightful trip. We embody and manifest what we believe and uphold. Mental hygiene and good juju. As if my wishes for them influence the energy of the world, even though I know that things happen as part of consequence and coincidence rather than fate.

The sky was blue with streaky clouds as if someone decided to blot at it with whiteout high above where the big, fat, puffy mashed potato clouds sit. I did my best to sleep on the way down, napping between semi trucks and speeding weekend warriors. The funny thing about the road is that it is one of the few places where everyone is equal- the working man in his fancy suit, the road tripper with the backseat mounded with snacks and wrappers, the elderly man that can barely pull his chin up above the steering wheel, and me. Traveling to get answers, my wife at the wheel steering me towards them with tenderness and care. I was her precious cargo.

We took our seats in the waiting room of the joint urology/ GI advanced specialty clinic at the town-that-is-a-hospital after I checked in. There were plenty of other people there. A sweet little elderly woman and her daughter. An older gentleman tenderly pushed his wife in a wheelchair to the counter. A younger woman, like me, waiting for a chance to be seen. All of us were there for different maladies, but we were all looking for the same thing: answers.

My pre-op nurse came out to get me. She took me to a room and sat me on the exam table, then left so I could change. My new uniform was a gown and grippy grey socks. I didn't take the pregnancy test. I had nothing to give them. My body was empty but for the last remnants of prep that still lingered in my rectum. When she returned, she brought with her another nurse that wore her experience on her face in the form of carelines. She took her time with the IV, which she inserted into a vein in my hand. I was terrified. It takes a lot of my energy to stay calm for shots, labs, and anything that involves needles.

After speaking first with the anesthesiologist, then the GI physician and his nurse, I was wheeled down a long hall and into a large, frigid operating room. There were noisy machines and viewing screens, and people in gowns preparing for me, the guest of honor. Things were already surreal. I didn't know any of these people, but they all knew of me. A nurse put a cannula over my head and placed it into my nose, then had me roll onto my left side. A bite guard was placed in my mouth, a blue silicon thing with a wide open circular hole in the center, then over that an oxygen mask. Every step was described, every action forewarned with spoken word. The anesthesia nurse briefly stroked the top of my head in encouragement. A numbing medicine was mixed into my oxygen so that it would dull the pain of the sedative entering my arm from the IV. My head spun and I registered the distant burning of the sedative as it blazed a path up the highways of my circular system. Before I knew it, I was awake again. Addie sat in the corner of the room, loyally waiting for me two return and wake up. Hers was the first face I saw, and I was so grateful for that. Waking from the sedative was like waking from my sleeping medicine at home: trying to claw my way to consciousness.

I have lots and lots of polyps. There were benign growths in my stomach and large, complicated polyps in my duodenum and small bowel. I will need an additional surgery to remove those. No noticeable signs of cancer, but they sent plenty of samples to pathology just in case.

We went for burgers at a place called the Hollander Cafe (it was fantastic!) in Wauwatosa, then poked around in a lovely little bookshop called The Little Read Book. The rest of the day was spent resting and reading one of the books I picked up for myself. I have a lot to think about. Results of the biopsies and what the implications are. I'm in Limbo again. Part of me knew that having the scopes wouldn't actually give me comfort, but I am glad that I went. The next visit is at the end of August with Dr. Peterson, my colorectal surgeon. We will discuss the journey that will be my colectomy and recovery.

Thank you for your patience and care! I truly appreciate you, my reader, and the support you give me. May you have the best health and beautiful days. You deserve them! Much love!

[survey--s]

411.

What is your favourite dog breed? Beagles. I love spaniels too but they’re a bit too hyper and energetic for me, lol.

What colour nail polish do you wear the most? Purple or red, but only on my toes.

Do you use lip balm regularly? Several times a day in winter, but I don’t bother the rest of the year.

Do you drink soda? Yeah, Pepsi Max - or sometimes Tango.

Do you drive? I do indeed, I’ve had my license for about four years now.

If so what kind of car do you drive? A metallic grey Hyundai i10.

Look to your left, what do you see? A cat on the floor staring at me as he wants his lunch but he’s not getting it this early lol.

How many people have you dated? I don’t really keep track of things like that.

Do you use hand sanitizer frequently? I never use it. I actually think it causes more problems than it solves - dry and cracked skin, for starters, but also, germs are healthy and it’s not a great idea to try and totally sanitise everything in your life.

How many hair products do you use? Just shampoo and conditioner.

Are you happy with your appearance? Yeah, I mean, if I could change things overnight, I would, but in reality I’m far too lazy for any of that nonsense.

What is the last book you read? I honestly don’t remember. I’m not much of a reader these days..

What website do you visit most often? Tumblr, Facebook, Mumsnet, Google, Reddit.

Have you ever broken a bone? Nope.

Are you artistic? No.

Have you ever been to a concert? Yeah, I went to quite a few when I was a teenager.

Have you ever performed in a play? Yeah, school plays every year when I was younger.

Do you like to dance? No.

If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be? I would give myself perfect vision as wearing glasses is expensive and a real pain in the arse when it rains.

What search engine do you use? Google.

Do you have a facebook account? Yeah.

What is your favourite food? Steak, pizza and fries.

Can you use chopsticks? Yeah, but I don’t bother.

Do you use a flat iron? I still own one but I never really use it anymore.

Do you have a cell phone? Yeah, an iPhone 13 mini.

What colour underwear are you wearing? Black. All my underwear is black.

What colour are most of your clothes? Black, grey, purple, green and pink.

Do you collect anything? Wax melts, cosy jumpers, books. What colour are your eyes? Dark brown.

Do you have any tattoos? Just one.

Do you play video games? Not really - I play a few mobile games but that’s about it.

Do you speak any other languages? Yeah, French and a little bit of German and Italian.

Do you wear makeup? Very occasionally.

How many times have you moved? 6-7 times, including moving around as a student as I had to change accommodation every year.

What was the last food you ate? Crumpets. What was the last thing you had to drink? Coffee.

Do you liked grilled cheese? I love the idea of it but normally I find it really greasy and I never finish it. Do you eat breakfast? Yeah, I work a really physical job so I need to eat before work or I end up feeling sick and dizzy by mid-morning.

Do you have a cat? I have three cats.

What is your favourite childhood memory? Visiting my cousins in Australia and hand-feeding kangaroos. Going to France and playing on the trampolines by the beach and then eating crêpes.

What was your favourite movie as a kid? The Lion King.

Have you ever dated someone online? I’ve met a few people online that I ended up dating, yeah.

Do you like to take walks? Only with dogs. I don’t really like walking otherwise, though, I find it a bit boring.

Are you going to college right now?  No, I graduated 11 and a half years ago which makes me feel really old, hahah.

If so, what is your major? I studied Modern European Studies.

Do you like school? I liked primary school up until about Year 5? It just got worse from then on, hahah.

Do you keep a journal? If so how often do you write in it? This is it, lol. Sometimes I do 5-6 surveys a day, sometimes I go for days without even logging on, it just depends how busy I am.

Have you ever traveled outside of your country? Yeah, I travelled a lot when I was younger and my parents were paying for it.

Do you chew gum? No.

Do you live in a big city? No, I live in a tiny little coastal town.

How often do you go out to eat? Once a month on average, maybe. Less nowadays as prices have shot up recently and it’s just not worth it.

What is the last movie you saw in theatres? Cats, which was way before COVID was even a thing, lol.

Have you ever dyed your hair? Yeah, I used to do it all the time. Do you drink tea? Yeah, most days I have a cup of two.

Do you subscribe to channels on youtube? Yeah, just so I can watch TV shows on there though.

Do you have a tumblr? No, this is all a figment of your imagination.

Do you watch anime? No.

Can you cook? Yeah, but I don’t enjoy it so I pretty much never bother.

How old were you when you first started dating? Fourteen.

Are/Were your parents strict? My dad was, but my mum was never very strict and often overruled him, lol.

Is your room messy? My side is spotless, Mike’s side...well, the less said about that the better, lol.

Do you have Netflix? Yeah - well, Mike does and I just use that.

Do you have any regrets? Nope. How are your grades? I always got decent enough grades, I just didn’t enjoy school so I never really put in a huge amount of effort.

Do you get nervous easily? Not really.

What do you look for in a BF/GF? A good sense of humour, a love of animals, decent work ethic, good morals.

Have you ever written a song or poem? Just when we had to do it for school.

Have you ever written a short story or novel? We used to have to write short stories for school.

Are/Were you in a school club? Yeah, I did loads in primary school - dance, gymnastics, trampolining, chess and various baking/sewing ones too. Do you play an instrument? Not anymore, but I used to play guitar, piano and cornet.

Where do you want to be in 5 years? Honestly, I don’t think about the future all that much.

What do you never leave the house without? Phone, keys.

What food(s) do you refuse to eat? Tripe.

Favourite candy? Reeses Pieces.

Do you have a good relationship with your mom? Yeah, we’re really close and speak most days.

Do you have a good relationship with your dad? No. It’s not a bad relationship as such, we just don’t have anything in common and pretty much never speak to each other.

What did you have for dinner last night? I just had random snacks.

Do you wear glasses? I do.

Do you have any siblings? No.

Do you watch reality tv shows? If so which ones? Yeah, I like Below Deck and cooking competitions like Bake Off.

What do you miss most about your childhood? Not having to worry about money or bills.

How many pets do you have? Four - one dog and three cats.

What colour are the walls in your room? A very pale purple.

Do you write "To-Do" lists?  Nope.

Do you procrastinate often? No.

What is your favourite book? Alice in Wonderland, Neverwhere.

Did you hate any of your teachers? No, I just found most of them incredibly patronising and annoying, lol. Have you ever been depressed? Yeah, I’ve been on and off anti-depressants since my teens.

How do you handle stress? I don’t really handle it very well. I seem to muddle through at the time and then completely break own afterwards. What are you looking forward to? Christmas holidays (five days to go!) plus my beach ride, and a day out for lunch and shopping with my mum in ten days or so.

[bubbledumbbinch]

Yanderes! Leona, Jack and Malleus in heat with their reader friend

HAHAHAHA EVIL LAUGHTER. Finally…. I’m getting around to this request….. i guess i might make this less “headcanon-y” and more ficlets? Scenarios? Idk? First time trying this out so here we go!

This piece of writing is purely for 18+ audiences only. Minors do NOT interact.

Pairings: Leona Kingscholar x Fem! Reader, Jack Howl x Fem! Reader, Malleus Draconia x Fem! Reader

Warnings: SMUT, yandere, dubcon/noncon elements, coercion, unhealthy relationships, breeding kink(?), talk of pregnancy, dark content

Leona Kingscholar

The botanical gardens was a usual hangout spot for you and your lazy friend Leona. However, when you arrived at his favorite napping spot under a specific tree, you felt something was off when he wasn’t there. You definitely knew he wouldn’t go to class unless there was some kind of exam. Was it something serious? ‘Where are you?’ You texted Leona and sent the message. After waiting a bit, your phone buzzed and Leona had replied. ‘Screw off. Leave me alone for a while.’ the text read on your screen had you feeling worried about the beastman. He was your friend - and you knew something had to be up.

The speed-walk from the gardens to Savanaclaw was a bit anxious, your body was starting to sweat as you worried about Leona. You didn’t even think to text his dorm mates like Ruggie or Jack to ask what was wrong. Once you finally made it through the mirror to his dorm, you rushed to eventually make it to Leona’s door and knocked. You were met with a loud snarl and a gruff voice. “Who the hell is it?! Go away.”

“Leona-san, I’m coming in!!” You quickly barged in, chest heaving up and down from the worry you felt. The door slammed behind you before you could even recognize what was going on in front of you. 

“Leona-san! Are you okay?! I- Oh…!” Your field of vision was immediately met with Leona sprawled on his bed with his shirt off and his blanket covering up to his waist. His hand was lazily pumping up and down his length from underneath the blanket and it was so painfully obvious. Leona was panting heavily and eyes were half lidded.

“You… what the fuck are you doing here, herbivore? I told you not to come!” Leona spat from across the room, making you recoil in fear from your spot. You gulped and blushed, turning away.

“I- I’m sorry,” stammering, the words just really seemed to have a hard time finding a way out of your mouth. “I just, I thought it was something I could help you with, so I’m gonna go now!! Sorry for interrupting!!”

You quickly tried to turn around and walk back out, but didn’t realize Leona was coming closer to you only seconds prior. Your wrist was grabbed harshly and you were being yanked until your back thudded onto something hard - Leona’s chest. It was so toned and warm, you were almost tempted to lean back into it.

“Hn, I change my mind. Maybe this is something you could help me out with, herbivore...” His low and sultry voice almost purred the words into your ears sending heat to your clothed cunt. As if on cue, Leona’s calloused fingers made their way to rub at the crotch of your pants, making you squeak involuntarily. 

“Leo-naa..!” you shrieked out his name, half of it turning into a moan. He growled at the noise of his name coming out of your mouth.

“Heh, it looks like you’re forcing me to do something a bit unforgivable.” The dark tone in his voice made you gulp hard. “Herbivore… I was really trying to hold back, find the perfect time to make you my mate, I even had preparations to take you away to stay with me. It was the perfect plan.” The weight of his words caused you to tense. Almost sensing your unease, Leona decided to dip his warm fingers into your pants and underwear to rub at your needy clit. You gasp and cover your mouth instantly, afraid of the noises Leona would pull out of you. Leona growled as his other hand slapped your arm away from your face.

“Don’t cover up your noises herbivore, if you know what’s good for you.” Leona  angrily muttered against your ear, sending waves of panic through your system. The wet squelching sounds were only growing louder as well as your moans. “Leona-saahn~ haaah,” you threw your head back into him as he plunged two fingers into your pussy. 

“Hm? Don’t tell me you love being talked to like that? Does it turn you on, slut?” Leona’s smooth voice invaded your senses and only spurred you on further. “Y-yes, Leona-san!!” you were now a moaning and squirming mess. Leona guided you to the foot of his bed and pulled his fingers out of you, pushing you onto the mattress.

“This is gonna be fun, herbivore. I really, really should have done this sooner...” Leona whispered, almost to himself. Your face was sweating and you stared up at Leona helplessly, feeling his large erection grazing your thighs as he caged your body with his own, like a predator rearing to devour his prey.

Jack Howl

Vargas’s outdoor gym sessions were always difficult - even more so since you couldn’t use magic. Wanting to utilize your skills to its capacity in his class, Vargas forced you to do more physical training than the other students. Those trainings always left you and your clothes hot and sticky with sweat. Being the only female student in the school, you were also the last person to use the locker rooms, with one of your first year friends near the door to protect you and your privacy. Today was Jack’s turn and everything was going smoothly, to your knowledge. As you were idly thinking about the ways you would prepare dinner tonight, you didn’t realize how much trouble you were really in.

The door to the locker room slowly creaked open as you peeled off the layers of your gym uniform. Heavy footsteps echoed and forced you to pause all of your activities. “J-Jack..?” you whimpered, worried about who was going to catch you half naked. As the steps came closer to your location you couldn’t help but start to shake in fear.

Jack’s white hair and ears peeked around the corner of the lockers making you jump and hide your body in your arms. “O-oh!! Thank goodness, it’s just you!” You sighed in relief. Jack could only grunt in a noise that sounded like approval. Jack didn’t look too good, his cheeks were red and he looked like he was panting - like he had just finished running a race. 

“Uhm, Jack, are you okay?” you shuffled uncomfortably in your spot as Jack’s gaze was still fixated on your body, your arms still covering yourself. 

“Listen, I uh, I have to change, Jack…” you trailed off and looked away, hoping he would get the idea. He didn’t.

Instead, Jack slowly sauntered towards your smaller form. You didn’t even realize you were walking backwards until your head and clothed backside touched the cool lockers behind you, the sound of locks and metal catching you off guard. Taking your moment of surprise as an opportunity, the beastman rutted his hips towards your sweaty body, the friction causing him to groan right in your ear. The noise sent heat down to your core, shame and fear filling your head as you gasped.

“You smell so good right now, Y/N…” Jack said lowly, his breath was so hot in your face it felt like a sauna. He dipped down to your neck and licked a long wet stripe up your skin.

“Aah! What are you doing, Jack?! Th- this isn’t like you!” You shrieked, hoping your voice would get to him somehow.

You yelped as Jack lifted you briefly, only to set you down on his lap to straddle him as he sat on the locker room bench. He grunted as your clothed cunt momentarily made direct contact with his erection that was still in the confines of his pants. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your mouth, yet your beastman friend believed to sound like honey. Gold eyes bore into yours as he panted and lifted his hips back up to meet yours. “Nngh~!” You buried your face into his neck.

“I’m, haah, sorry, Y/N. I can’t, I can’t help it right now. I like you so much it hurts. I need to touch you, nnh- to make you feel good.” His confession was sudden as he guided your hips to grind on him, lewd moans and whines being forced out of your body with every movement. You couldn’t help but blush and grip onto him tighter, chasing your own inevitable release. 

“Mmh- Jack, please.” You whined into Jack’s ear. Your panties were soaked and he could feel the juices soaking into his uniform. “I’m gonna fill you up with my pups.” Jack growled into your ear as he was losing sight of his own self control.

Malleus Draconia

It was odd to receive a text from Lilia to come to Diasomnia’s dorm. Once he said it was an issue involving Malleus, you told him you’d be on the way immediately. Curiously enough, Lilia never answered your text about what was wrong with Malleus, he only mentioned that he requested you specifically. Reaching the dorm, you noticed the skies were particularly cloudy and grey, and green lightning bolts were littering the skies. You ran inside quickly to be greeted by none other than Lilia himself.

“Ah, Y/N, finally you’re here!” The bicolor haired student welcomed you warmly. His tone was much different than his serious one he used over text.

“I’m here, where is Malleus? What’s wrong with him?” You asked, looking around the dorm. It was seemingly more empty than usual.

“Oh don’t worry! Come, I’ll lead you to his room…” Lilia walked with you to Malleus’s dorm room, when he stopped in front of the door. Suddenly, a darkness had taken over his facial expressions. “I’m... sorry for what I’m about to do, Y/N.”

“What do you mean, Lilia?” You stood as stiff as a board in your spot, dumbfounded.

“Be safe.” Lilia’s words went over your head. Suddenly, the door was opened as he shoved you into Malleus’s room, promptly locking it once you were inside. You banged on the door with both fists. 

“Hey!! Lilia!? Let me out!!” Panicked, you felt the atmosphere in the room was… heavy. Looking behind you to Malleus’s bed, a large black mass had taken form on it.

“Child of man…” You could hear Malleus’s voice from every corner of the room, especially focused from the direction of that black mass. Suddenly, wings uncurled and revealed Malleus, or a creature that heavily resembled him. Along his face were black scales that focused on the edges of his face. A tail was swishing behind him aggressively. Malleus’s arms were now scaly and long nails replaced his short black polished ones. And with those black claws, he used an index finger to beckon you towards him. “Come closer.” He breathed.

You felt your body move on its own, as if you weren’t even controlling it. “Malleus, what’s wrong?” You whispered, not even sure if the words had come out of your mouth. Once in front of him, you stood awkwardly and fiddled with the sleeves of your uniform. “Is there something you need from me?” You breathlessly spoke, avoiding his piercing gaze.

“I requested you for a, specific, reason…” he cooed and pulled you into a tight and awkward hug you didn’t reciprocate. Then you felt it. Something hard and large was poking at your stomach, causing you to gasp suddenly in realization. “It seems like you’ve caught on. Well, my sweet Y/N, you don’t want to keep your prince waiting, do you?”

“Strip.”

“What..?” You asked dumbly.

“You heard me, I said strip. Now.”

“I, I heard you, I just-,” you stepped back, and began to take off your clothes slowly. You stopped at your simple bra and underwear, hoping that was enough to appease him. It didn’t - but it was something he could rip off later.

Grabbing your shoulders and bringing you in close, Malleus’s teeth latched onto your neck, biting hard enough to draw blood. You moaned unexpectedly and held onto his neck, unknowingly pulling him in closer. “Ah, M-Malleus, no..!” Your voice shook.

Instantly, Malleus threw you down onto the bed and straddled your lower half, pinning your wrists above your head. His wings extended above you as his green eyes pierced into yours. The fierceness alone took the words out of your mouth as you stared up in fear.

“Don’t even think about fighting me back. You will surely regret that choice and I don’t want to hurt you, unless you deserve it. So be a good girl for me, while I breed you over… and over… and over again.” You watched in horror as his tongue, now long and forked, laved over his bottom lip in hunger and excitement.

“Well now child of man, doesn’t that sound exciting? Let’s get started right away.” 

[minsyal]

The Fugitive: Finding Home, Pt. 2

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You're quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?

The Fugitive: Finding Home Masterlist

Part 1 - The Beginning

“Mother Miranda, I’ve been requesting new maids for at least six months to this day.”

“That’s because you keep eating your other ones.”

You were shaken awake.

“I think that my castle would be best suited for her.”

“Oh, so you can bleed ‘er dry? You think that would really be the best use of anyone’s time?” A familiar voice retorted.

“Good morning!” A shrill voice squeaked as what felt like wood kicked at your face. “She’s up! She’s up! She’s up!” It exclaimed excitedly with a bounce, the voice became softer as the skittering of feet scrambled away.

“Ah,” the unfamiliar smooth woman’s voice cooed as your eyes adjusted to your surroundings. There were what looked to be six figures in the room. Miranda stood before you, perched upon a stage-like area that once housed what you could only imagine was a priest or preacher. To the left sat a cloaked woman with a blob of white resting in her lap. Another woman, also adorned in a white garb, sat towering over the rest, the light constant trickle of smoke danced upward from her vintage cigarette holder. On your right sat a familiar face, the man from the village who had saved you only a few hours prior. You’d come to know him as Lord Heisenberg. He maintained the large woman’s gaze, but the look held no love or any remote sense of familial belonging. Instead, his eyes were set ablaze, even behind the shaded rims of his glasses. Lastly, a shorter creature with a large hunched back moved ungracefully around. Its long gangly arms accompanied by its deformed face only aided in the growing unease.

The dull ache of your shoulder only distracted you from the bindings of your wrists for a moment. Your attention was quickly drawn to the rough ropes that dug their thorny threads into the soft skin of your wrists. Everything ached, mentally and physically.

“I do think she would be best suited with me.” The tall woman repeated herself. “There’s no doubt Moreau wouldn’t be able to handle her, and likely not the rest of you either.”

The hunched creature whirled back, throwing a forlornly glare in the woman’s direction. You supposed that was Moreau.

“You think I couldn’t handle her?” Heisenberg shot back, bent forward to rest his weight on his heels. His relationship with the large woman was clearly tumultuous given his outburst and her subsequent reaction.

“You always get them.” The shrill voice called. It was the doll; the fucking doll was talking... not that this should surprise you at this point. “She should come with us! We need more friends.”

“You’re not included in this conversation.” The tall woman mocked with a fierce glare shot violently at the doll as its mouth hung slack.

“Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Thus far, nobody had managed to answer your simple question. The lot turned toward you, the majority with piercing stares. “Guess not.” You muttered, becoming quite fed up with the range of emotions you had been experiencing over the past day. If it kept going in this direction, you’d surely have to be treated for whiplash.

“She’s already proven to be a considerable pain in my neck.” Miranda loudly projected. Her steps were a clear juxtaposition to her tone, falling light on the church floor as she approached. “One villager is unable to walk, another dead.”

“Dead?” The words fell before you could stop yourself. She didn’t answer.

“Please,” Heisenberg leaned back once more, his hand moving to the interior of his jacket, “the dumb thing practically laid down when she was attacked by a lycan.” His fingers fumbled around the darkened paper of a cigar. Yellow, blonde streaks flashed upon his face as the distinguishable clink of a metal lighter was flicked. “I wouldn’t call that too capable.”

“My friend pushed me.” You argued, once again mentally reeling for the outburst.

Heisenberg let out a huff of smoke, intentionally blowing it in the tall woman’s direction, “sounds like a piss poor friend.”

“Enough.” Miranda had taken to her spot at the front near the alter once more. “The girl shall go to Alcina.”

A wicked smile crossed the tall woman’s face. “Thank you, Mother Miranda. It is so good to have you back.”

“Where are you from?” One of the girls ushered you through the depths of the castle. She wore a simple gown with stitches at the bottom, holding together the frail fabric that looked to be decades old.

“America.”

The girl cocked her head to the side like a newborn. “I don’t know of that town.”

Upon arrival you were escorted down to what was described as the maids’ chambers. In a small stone room, you were assigned a cot, given a chest, and told to change into uniform. Your arm ached and spasmed as you lifted the lid of the trunk open. Somewhere between being shot by the villagers and being transported to Castle Dimitrescu, the bullet was removed from your shoulder and replaced with gauze that limited the mobility of your arm. The distinct oily feeling of grease caused friction between the bandages and your clothes; the ache of alcohol still stung, causing a sore numbness.

The Lady insisted all maids conform to the strict code of dress. Long, unflattering dresses, short heels, and sometimes a headscarf if hair wasn’t pulled tautly into a bun at the base of one’s neck were a few things to name the least. You always wore the headscarf, which was a thin piece of grey lace that attached at the peak of your hairline, cascading over your shoulders to land at waist-length.

The rest of the day passed slowly. You learned the ins and outs of the castle, became acquainted with the sparse staff that only consisted of women, and met Alcina’s daughters from a distance. The next two weeks passed the same way.

Wake up, clean the castle, serve Lady and her daughters, go to bed. That was your routine. Though, the sounds that seeped from the halls at night prompted unwavering curiosity. Heisenberg had mentioned the ill-fated maids that had the luxury of serving the Dimitrescu women back in that church. Nothing at this point had you doubting that was the case. But you assured yourself daily that you would not accept the castle’s fate; you would get out of here one way or another.

You had only been at the mercy of Lady Dimitrescu once to this day. A small spat broke out between maids and the arrival of the head of house had the women squealing lies of how you were the one to start it.

“She stole our rations!” The girl with the wide nose accused her chubby finger outstretched in your direction.

“I didn’t steal anything, you dirty fucking liar.”

“She did. We were squabbling over how she should be punished.” The other girl replied, tucking a shaking hand behind her back as she straightened her poor posture.

“A thief,” Alcina regarded you, “that’s a shame.” Knives skid across the thin skin of your forearm. “Another outburst like this and there will be harsher consequences.” Red stained her tongue as she ran the claw through her cherry-red lips.

As she sauntered down the hall and out of sight, you uncurled your arm from your chest, wincing at the large crimson stain it left on your dress.

“Fresh face.” The words ricocheted off the wall in front of you. Footsteps steadfastly approached from behind. He walked with an effortless swagger, legs slightly bowed with each lyrical step. You’d gone for the quiet route after the situation, finding that silence often pleased those that ruled over the castle. “Here I was thinkin’ it would take you a little longer to lose that fight.” He stepped closer; the unmissable smell of tobacco seeped from his lips. “Looks like I was wrong.”

Instead of words, you held his gaze through unimpressed eyes. Hues of yellows, greys, and greens met yours from beneath his rounded glasses. You could see more of him from here. A large scar ran from the right of his face to the left, the lifted skin healing over leaving memories of whatever had happened. In fact, the majority of his face was plagued with scars. One ran from the bottom of his lip down to his chin, disappearing beneath the stubble of his beard. You wondered if his disdain toward Alcina was founded by those wretched claws of hers. His hair was wirey with shades of brown and peppered grey streaking through the ends. Quite honestly, he was an attractive man.

“I’ve got a name, you know?”

“I don’t think I cared to ask.”

“Then I suppose you aren’t deserving of one either.”

“Well,” he tapped at your chest with a gloved finger, “I think you’ve got a little spunk left in you, sweetheart.”

“Call me Y/n.”

“No last name?” He deadpanned.

“L/n.”

He nodded, but you felt as though your words had passed through him like a ghost.

“Karl.” He gave a lazy bow, tilting the rim of his hat. “But I think you probably already knew that.”

“Gossip and information don’t come easily from the maids here. Sorry,” you pressed your lips together, “I didn’t know.”

Karl gave a shrug.

“Do you know what happened to my friend?” The thought had been playing on your mind for the past few weeks.

He raised an inquisitive brow and turned his head to peer out the shaded window. “The so-called friend that left you to become lycan chow?” A hearty tut left his chest. “I think she’s assimilated into the town.”

“Dumb bitch.” You breathed.

“There’s that spark.” He stood tall with an artificial sense of pride. It had been a long time since somebody in the village was willing to use such crude language in front of any of the Lords, let alone Miranda. It almost astonished him that they’d let you live after the killing of Adelina’s brother. The gun misfired; it wasn’t really your fault.

Another week of growing suspicions and two newly missing maids, you finally attempted to seek out the dungeons that everyone spoke of but warned to stray from. You had to know what was going on here.

“Lost?” Heisenberg’s voice appeared at your right side. His chin almost rested upon your shoulder; the stubble of his beard scratched at your neck. “This isn’t a place I’d get lost in if I were you. In fact, it’s not even a place you should be exploring.”

“Are you going to run to Alcina if I do?” You didn’t face him, why would you? The hallway was cramped, restricting of any sort of movement other than in the direction you were going.

“Me?” He leaned backward to stand at full height. Your body cursed silently, wishing nothing more than to have him close again. How he wasn’t hitting his head on the rafter just inches above floored you. “I hate that bitch. You do what you want, but I won’t bail you out when you get caught.”

“Good thing I don’t plan on being caught then.” You descended the metal ladder, only looking upward for a moment to catch a glimpse of Heisenberg leaning over the opening. An eerie smile was plastered on his lips, it was almost smug.

The dungeons were as you imagined. Cold water trickled down some of the walls, likely due to cracks in the castle’s foundation accompanied by the ever melting of the outside snow. It smelled of mothballs and garlic, something musty was clinging to the air. You noted a few turns here and there, attempting to memorize the path you had taken in case you needed to make a swift escape. What didn’t help was the skid of your maid’s clothes along the rigid floor.

Muffled cries put you further onto the edge. The narrow hall gave way to a large room filled with arched stonework. Metal bars shot from floor to ceiling, hinges creaked as the sound of hands banging against them filled your eardrums. You didn’t want to go further, scared of any repercussions should any of the jailed women recognize and rat you out.

Turning to head to the ladder, you collided with a chest. “Leaving so soon?” Heisenberg again.

“Shh!” You slapped at his chest with a closed fist, only realizing what you had done when the action was completed. He looked rightfully amused. Everything that you had learned of these “Lords” up to now told you to act less casually with him, to put on an air of respect at the very least. But there was something surprisingly human about him. Something that told you it was okay despite it potentially not being so. At this point, you were only prolonging the inevitable.

“What?” He started, swiftly being cut off by approaching footsteps. Firm hands grasped at your arms, pulling your face forward into his chest. “Open your mouth and I’ll feed you to whatever’s coming.” He said through his teeth, trapping your arms between your two bodies.

The room grew dim, the wall behind your back became close even though you had not moved at all. Heisenberg’s grip was strong on your forearms, causing you to inaudibly hiss as his thumb dug into the slash Alcina had left weeks prior. The footsteps were accompanied by the soft cries of a woman, gasping pleas of being let go falling silent on the ears of her assailant. A minute passed; the dungeon fell soundless.

“You can breathe now.” His lips lingered close to your ear, once again sending a rush of chills crawling down your skin. He knew what he was doing.

“I’ve been breathing.” You breathily retorted sounding as if you had just run a marathon.

“Whatever you say, doll.”

The wall behind you gave way, moving on its own. You turned; the materials that had been pressed to your back laid themselves on the ground. Heisenberg’s smile was unmissable. “Go ahead.” His voice was gravely, gruff, a slight melancholy dismay underlying. Heisenberg desired for you to implore what just happened, but you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. You refused to see him as anything but normal, for if you did give in to the village’s mental games, you’d likely find yourself going mad. He was a man, you told yourself, nothing more.

“I thought you weren’t going to bail me out?”

“I wasn’t.” He tightened his grip on your arms. “But I figured it’d be a shame to lose such a pretty face so soon.”

“I, I’m sure you say that to all the girls here.” You couldn’t hold his gaze at this distance. Perhaps Adelina was right, you were rather frumpy and unexperienced.

A huff came as he exhaled, a thoughtful tug of his lips upward accompanied it. He didn’t answer, a reoccurring event with those who inhabited this town.

Heisenberg had been keeping his trips to and from the castle a secret. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure why he felt so inclined to bother with the outsider woman who appeared in the village one fateful evening. Perhaps he was growing bored of his daily routine with no results to show. Maybe he was enticed by the well of knowledge you held of the outside world. Maybe it was something else, something human. The Lord’s weren’t allowed to stray far from the village. The other three lived delightfully oblivious, completely okay with never exploring the unknown. Heisenberg, on the other hand, was not. Your friend, Jess as he recalled you calling her, was far from interesting to him. It didn’t take a genius to tell how low her I.Q. had to be. She conformed easily to the village and by all accounts had been down talking you to the others she met. She quickly fell into the same brainwashed daze of worship.

It had been another turbulent week of utter chaos around every corner. Nobody knew of your adventure into the depths of Castle Dimitrescu and you had no intentions of spreading any gossip among the maids. They all seemed to have it out for you anyway. You were the “outsider,” as one described it. It was so blatantly evident to them that you were not going to conform to their ways. And that disturbed them.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t your fair share of punishment to this point. In actuality, you had received a significantly greater amount of beratements and surface wounds from Alcina and her daughters. You thought to Heisenberg often, continually wondering how your life would differ had Miranda bestowed you upon him. He was irresistibly charming in his own twisted sense. Every word that escaped his mouth heavily contradicted his actions. You received a good number of swats to the hand stemming from woeful daydreaming of the man you hardly knew.

He could be dangerous, you’d tell yourself before slipping into yet another sequence of fervent and unrelenting thoughts stemming from the mysterious man. He was a Lord, one placed in a top position according to the village’s hierarchy. You just weren’t sure why.

There had been countless times the man had sauntered into the castle, “accidentally” run into you, and held brief conversation.

The other maids were assholes. Though you had concluded this swiftly upon entering the castle, their recent actions only solidified your feelings.

It had been only a day since Heisenberg’s last visit. He strolled into the castle, easing his way past the maids as they hurriedly passed by. They paid him no mind. The evening sun had begun to set in the sky. Lady Dimitrescu had gone out for the night, instructing her girls to hold down the castle while she was away. The three of them had descended into the dungeons, not to be seen again until morning. This left the halls free and roamable for the savvy Lord.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Your voice caught his attention. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Marybeth.”

Shrill voices argued back and forth behind the kitchen doors. The sound of muffled giggles fell on his ears; it was an unusual sound within the castle walls. The girls must be relaxed knowing they’re safe from punishment tonight. At least, that’s what they thought.

In a second, the hinges of the door burst off, sending the heavy frame crashing down to the tiled floor. Shrieks came quickly and died on their lips as soon as the girls realized who was there.

“Lord Heisenberg.” One woman bowed her head, concealing something within her hands as she placed them in her lap, clasped tightly together. “Lady Dimitrescu has left for the evening.”

“I know.” His brow raised at the scene set before him. You stood to the rear of the kitchen, clearly irate at something the woman who regarded him had done. Five other women were huddled with the one who spoke, following her lead and averting their gazes. No aroma of cuisine drifted from the empty cauldron, only the stale scent of curing meats clung to the air.

“What’s going on in here?” He looked directly at you from beneath the lid of his hat.

“We were cleaning the kitchen.” The maid spoke through shaking breaths.

After a pensive moment, he waved his hand. “You’re dismissed. Except,” he held his hand at your chest as you attempted to pass, “you.”

The girls stumbled over the door, making quick work of getting back to their quarters and away from the Lord. You listened as the audience of feet trampled away. None of the girls here knew how to walk in heels causing for a rather elephant-like clomping of shoes wherever they went.

“What really happened?”

“Do you care?”

“Not particularly, but color me curious.”

“Don’t get them in trouble.” You demanded through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to deal with the aftermath.”

He chortled. “You seem more afraid of them than you are of me.”

“You’ve not given me a reason to be scared.”

Your back pressed to the wall, a glass chalice fell, shattering against the floor. The lapels of his jacket and dog tags pushed to your chest were still cold from the frosted night air. “Do I need to give you a reason?”

“I just,” embarrassment rose in your cheeks, “would you stop doing this?” There was no budging the man. His strength far outweighed yours, easily acting as if your pushing against his chest was nothing but a soft breeze.

“Doing what?” A smirk grew on his lips. God, he loved this.

“This!” Your clenched fist banged on his chest, not rattling him in the slightest. Droplets of claret liquid ran from your palm to your elbow. “Dammit, Karl. Move.”

The use of his first name was new. A solid hand closed around your wrist, bringing it up to eye level. He tilted back, adjusting his vision. The raise of his brow signaled that he wanted you to open your hand. Complying, you cringed as the reddened skin screamed for relief.

“They did this?”

“It’s no different from the other injuries I’ve gotten here.”

“It’s deep.” He reached into the pocket of his trench coat. “Don’t let anyone know you’ve got this.” A silver tin slipped from his hand to yours, you pried at its ridges with your nail.

Heisenberg disappeared after that, taking off with a dramatic throw of the castle doors as he disappeared into the dense forest. He had given you a tin of salve and a bandage.

“Lady Dimitrescu has requested your presence.”

The Fugitive: Finding Home Part 3 - Foreign Thoughts

I'm so excited for where this fic is going...

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[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 57

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,388

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE 

Author’s Note: We’re interrupting the emotions and angst for a healthy dose of smut in this one. 

A Wonderfully Well-F*cked Morning

You drifted to consciousness on a wave of pleasure, the sensations happening below your waist causing you to automatically arch your back and reach down. When your fingers came in contact with thick, soft hair at the same time that a wet tongue hit your clit, your brain finally decided to come online. Eyes opening in surprise, you looked down and found the breathtaking visual of Negan’s gorgeous face buried between your thighs.

Holy shit, what a way to start the day. 

Glancing up, his mouth curled in a soul-stealing grin at the sight of you awake and watching. His “mornin’ doll” was spoken directly to your soaked cunt, the rumbled vibration of the words making you give a small moan and open your thighs wider, so he could do as he wished.

And, apparently, what he wished was to drive you absolutely mad with desire. The distant and withdrawn Negan of last night was gone, and in his place was the playful and passionate man before you. He teased with soft kisses along the crease at the top of your thigh and lazy laps of his tongue that just barely grazed where you needed them. When you tried to lift your hips in search of more friction, his large hands pinned them to the mattress. 

It wasn’t long before you had a deathgrip on his hair, thighs trembling, and even the muscles in your stomach starting to quiver. And yet still he continued, the devilish gleam in his eyes when he glanced up at you while gently sucking your clit almost enough to send you over the edge, until he backed off and went back to nipping at your inner thighs instead. 

You were just about to beg, plead, and promise whatever he wanted, including your soul, when a muffled knocking sound broke through the top layer of hazy desire shrouding you. Negan ignored the noise, continuing with his delicious torture so that you almost instantly forgot the sound had ever happened. But then it came again a few seconds later, this time loud and sharp...and right outside the bedroom door. 

Letting go of his hair and jolting up onto your elbows, you looked down at Negan with wide eyes. He had finally lifted his head from your pussy, the sight of his lips glistening with your wetness causing a soft moan to escape that you prayed whoever was at the door didn’t hear. 

“Fucking leave!” he yelled in that no-nonsense tone that both terrified and yet also made an extra trickle of wetness run down your thigh. 

The voice that responded was muffled through the door, but still unmistakably Simon. “Sorry, boss, but there’s a situation that needs your urgent attention in meeting room C.” 

Cursing harshly, Negan dropped his forehead to your lower stomach for a few seconds before lifting his head and yelling back, “I’ll fucking be there in 5!”

You stared in the direction of the office and listened for a few seconds until the unmistakable sound of Simon banging the door closed sounded (perhaps a bit louder than needed, as if he was letting you know that he was gone). You turned back to Negan, who now had a devious smirk on his face as he looked up at you.

Giving a doubtful expression, you said, “Only five minutes?” 

“Oh, doll,” he chuckled, head ducking down so the rest was muffled against your wet flesh. “That’s plenty of time.”

It was then that you realized just how much he had been toying with you before, as his demeanor instantly changed from playful to intense, and he set to work on your cunt. He knew just where to nip and lick, and when he latched onto your clit and sucked with the perfect amount of pressure, you shot off like a rocket, coming in less than a minute from when Simon had left. 

Still panting and sprawled across the mattress, you watched dazedly as he got up and went to his armoire for clothes to get dressed. He winced when tucking his erection into the boxer briefs and dark grey pants, and the bulge made your mouth water.

“What about you?” you asked with a nod in his cock’s direction. 

Pulling on his boots, he then straightened and trailed desire-bright eyes over your sated form spread out on his bed. “I thought I already made that clear, doll,” he quipped.

Unsure if it was the post-orgasm haze making you so dense or if he was purposely being vague, you asked, “What’s that?”

Walking around the side of the bed fully dressed, while you lay totally naked with thighs still spread and naked chest heaving, he ran a warm, calloused hand down over your throat and the tips of your breasts before answering. 

“That this relationship is about more than me getting my fucking rocks off.”

His hand moved lower, between your thighs, and he watched as if mesmerized at how you shuddered and arched into the feel of his touch on your still-sensitive flesh. “However, that being said-” he backed up a step and pointed at you with a stern look on his face, “-don’t fucking move from that bed until I get back.” 

He then tucked his tongue into his cheek, gave a playful wink, and was gone. Staring up at the ceiling, you figured this was one order you’d gladly follow, seeing as how your muscles wouldn’t be able to function properly enough to help you stand, anyways. It wasn’t until a couple minutes after he was gone that you sat straight up on the bed at the remembrance of his earlier words. 

He had called it a relationship!

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Forty-five minutes later and you, unsurprisingly, were in fact not able to follow his order, after all. Which shouldn’t be a surprise because, well, it was you we were talking about here, and when did you ever listen? 

You had tried though, really you had. After Negan left, and your breathing and heart rate had returned to normal, you sat up against the headboard to wait. Your eyes landed on a book that was open facedown on his bedside table, and the parallel to your own reading habits made you smile. Picking it up, you saw that it was some sort of psychological thriller. Making a note of what page it had been opened to, you huddled down into the plush mattress, the soft black headboard at your back, and started reading from the beginning. 

However, when the black and grey wall clock near the door ticked by almost an hour that he had been gone, you put the book down and sighed in annoyance. Whatever the emergency meeting had been about, it looked as though it might take a while, and you didn’t enjoy the thought of sitting here all morning and afternoon waiting, as if at his beck and call. Your brain also unhelpfully threw out the reminder of your previous plan not to have sex with Negan until a serious conversation was had about that damned padlocked box of unanswered questions. The subconscious, exasperated with the brain pulling this bullshit so early in the morning, yelled at it to please shut the hell up. 

Fuck it, you can at least freshen up a bit before he gets back, you thought while tossing off the sheet and standing from the bed. Stretching pleasantly sore muscles, you wandered over to the large armoire and tugged open one of the drawers. Smiling at how neatly the clothes inside were folded, you selected a moss green shirt and pulled it over your head. It was much baggier than his usual style, and you had never seen him wear it before, making you wonder if he ever got a chance to take off his leader armor and just sit around relaxing the day away in baggy sweats with a good book. Probably not, seeing as how he couldn’t even enjoy a perfectly delightful you-flavored breakfast without being interrupted. 

Heading into the bathroom to relieve your bladder and then wash your hands and face, you looked in the large mirror. Finger-combing hair that had seen better days, you then opened up some of the drawers under the sink that you hadn’t checked yet, mostly out of nosey curiosity. Finding one at the bottom that was stocked full of extra bars of soap, toothpaste, and still-packaged toothbrushes, you let out a tiny whoop of joy. Jackpot!

Opening a green and white toothbrush, you grabbed the already opened toothpaste that was on the countertop and squeezed a dollop onto the brush. Giving a sigh of happiness at the clean, minty taste, you weren’t even worried about Negan being upset you had stolen one of his unopened brushes. Especially since you’d have fresh breath when he crawled back in the bed with you and-

That fantasy died a quick death when the reflection of the man himself stepped into view while you were mid-brush. Locking eyes with him in the mirror, you saw a flicker of something in his expression as he took you in, standing there in his shirt and brushing your teeth with his personal supplies. 

“I thought I told you to be in the fucking bed when I got back,” he said, but his voice didn’t have the extra little growl that signified he was truly pissed. In fact, he almost sounded amused. 

Before you could even remove the toothbrush to respond, he stepped up behind you so that his front was pressed into your back. “Nevermind, doll,” he drawled while still holding your gaze in the mirror. “This’ll work too.”

You almost choked on toothpaste from gasping at the feel of his large, rough hands running up under the hem of the shirt and over your bare hips. Quickly leaning down to spit out the paste into the sink, you turned on the water and used a cupped hand to rinse out your mouth as he continued rubbing his palms along your torso and down over the outside of your thighs. When you put the toothbrush down and straightened, his mouth immediately attacked the back of your neck, sucking and nipping lightly. His hands moved further up under the shirt to cup your breasts, and his deft fingers pinched and twisted sensitive nipples at the same time that he ground his hips against your bare ass, letting you feel the ridge of his erection through the rough fabric of the pants.

You moaned softly and pressed back into him, almost overwhelmed by how quickly he had barged in and taken control of your body’s reaction. Any thoughts of self-doubt or questions of where you stood with him temporarily flew out the window in the face of the onslaught of intense and thorough possession he was directing your way. 

Unlike when you first woke up this morning, no part of him was teasing or going slow this time around. He quickly pulled the baggy shirt up over your head, and the sight of you totally bare made a groan punch from his chest. 

He whipped his own shirt and pants off in a quick flurry of movement before leaning in so that his warm chest was pressed into your back as he opened one of the drawers at your hip and pulled out a condom. 

Wasting no time, he opened it and rolled it down the swollen cock pressing into the small of your back. When he bent his knees to line up with your entrance, you assisted by hiking a knee up on the edge of the countertop, presenting yourself to him in a way that made him pause for a moment, as if in awe, before plunging inside you with a fierce thrust and strangled growl against the back of your neck. 

You looked up and were instantly transfixed by the sight in the mirror. Negan’s tattooed, leanly muscled form towered over yours, his rough edges and possessive thrusts juxtaposed against your softer curves and arching form. 

You watched his reflection as he gripped your hips and looked down between your bodies to watch himself fuck you, the sight making you moan and clench around his cock. His gaze lifted, amber eyes locking on yours in the mirror. 

One of his hands left your hip, trailing hungrily around the front of your body and up over your stomach and breasts before wrapping long fingers around the front of your throat. The grip was light, but the ruthless ownership behind both it and his pumping hips made your eyes flutter closed in ecstasy. 

He leaned in over you, breath coming in hot strikes against the side of your throat. “You like this, don’t you, pretty girl? Like being all. Fucking. Mine.”

The last words were each punctuated by a harsh thrust, making you cry out and open lust-filled eyes. His face was there beside your own, jaw clenched as he watched your reflection in the mirror with a fierce, almost pained expression. He let out a little snarl before turning his mouth to nip at the curve of your shoulder, and that combined with his grip at your throat and heavy, thick cock fucking you against the counter all combined to throw you into an orgasm without warning. He groaned as you shuddered and clenched in his hold, his gravel over sandpaper voice in your ear. 

“Yes, milk my fucking cock.”

Coming down off the wave of pleasure, you realized that his pace hadn’t slowed down, that he hadn’t finished yet. You lowered the leg propped up on the counter, needing both feet braced against the cool, tiled floor to keep your shaky body steady. 

Your gaze dropped, taking in the reflection of what was happening between your thighs. Both his cock and the inside of your thighs glistened with a coating of your release, and he felt even bigger inside of you, now that your walls were a little swollen and tender from both the friction of his cock and your recent orgasm. Right when his movements became almost too overwhelming against your oversensitized cunt, and you were about to ask for a break, he paused his thrusts and removed the hand from around your throat. 

Your thought that he was granting you a reprieve was instantly proven wrong when he gave a growled warning of, “Brace your arms on the sink,” right before his forearms hooked down under both your knees and lifted your entire lower body off the ground. Since the action pushed you forward, your body had no choice but to do as he said, forearms holding the weight of your upper body against the surface of the sink while your lower half hung suspended at the perfect height for his cock. 

He resumed his quick pace, fucking into you relentlessly. And, surprisingly, instead of becoming too much, the sensations pulled back from borderline painful and started to feel pleasurable again. Very pleasurable. 

Your whimper caused him to give a low moan in response, and his voice came through gritted teeth. “That’s it, doll. Fucking come for me again.” 

Trying to find your voice, you wanted to say that you weren’t sure if that was possible, that coming again so soon wasn’t likely. Instead, the words choked in your throat when he bent down and licked up your spine before sucking roughly on the skin of your back. He then ground his cock into you so hard that your pelvis pushed against the edge of the counter, the hard surface rubbing over your clit in exactly the right way needed to send your body spasming into a second orgasm.

You lost yourself in pleasure that had no beginning and no end, just endless heavy waves of bliss. Dimly, you heard him give a groan of completion as he gave a few sharp, hard thrusts, and then his body went still. He allowed your legs to lower to the tiled floor, and thank god for being braced on the countertop, otherwise you would’ve crumpled in a quivery heap at his feet. 

You took in the reflection of both you and Negan’s sex-dazed expressions, skin flushed and dewy with sweat despite the cool bathroom. A satisfied smile curved his lips, and you watched in the mirror as he bent down and kissed the curve where your neck met shoulder, the scratch of his beard rising goosebumps to the already sensitive flesh. He hummed happily against your skin, and you wished that the two of you could stay in this intimate bubble forever. That no outside intruders or internal thoughts could stand in the way of feeling like this with him every single day. 

As if he were thinking something similar, he ran a warm hand down over the curve of your hip and said in a sexy, husky voice, “Now that is a perfect fucking way to finish off the morning.” 

Unable to help a dreamy smile in return, you were finally able to fully stand up from the counter without fear of your legs giving out. Turning in his hold, you twined arms up around his neck and tugged him down for a proper kiss involving lips and tongues and even a hint of teeth. 

You pulled away after a few long moments, and offered, “What are your plans for today?”

Biting his lip and giving one of his signature cheeky grins, he replied, “I have to go over some new outpost security measures with Simon this afternoon. However…” his hands cupped your ass and kneaded possessively, “my evening is all fucking yours.”

Lord, but you liked the sound of that. Standing on tiptoe and placing another, softer kiss to his lips, you suggested, “How about I bring us dinner around 7:30?”

“I’ll be waiting,” he replied with one last squeeze of his hands before he stepped away to dispose of the condom and gather both your clothes off the tiles. 

The men had brought back some freshly butchered deer meat from the supply run, and Ben had been excited to try making stew with both it and vegetables from the garden. Thinking of Ben was also a reminder that you had promised to hang out with him today. You were very curious to hear details about what was going on with him and Simon, not to mention needing a friend to talk through some of your own worries regarding Negan.

Pulling the baggy green shirt back on, you preceded him into the bedroom and grabbed your jeans from where they had been discarded on the floor last night. You didn’t want to return his shirt, so tucked it into the jeans to hide the obviously ill-fitting length of it before pulling on your sneakers. Turning, you found an also fully-dressed Negan watching you. His gaze took in the outfit with an expression that was difficult to decipher, but seemed somewhere between appreciative and smug at the sight of you in his shirt. 

Struggling not to roll your eyes or make a comment about “males and their strange possessiveness”, you walked out of the bedroom with him following behind. Stopping at the closed office door, you turned and looked up at him, unable to resist the urge to reach up and run your fingers down over his bearded cheek. He bent and gave you one final kiss in return, then opened the door and watched you leave. 

You weren’t able to contain the happy grin tipping up the corners of your mouth. Not even the sudden appearance of the brain, who was dragging the padlocked box of questions, could dim your mood. The subconscious strode happily at your side, but as the brain fell more and more behind, struggling to keep up with the heavy metal box, it turned with a sigh and went back to help. 

I know. I know! We’ll have a conversation with him tonight; open up the box and air out some of those unanswered questions. But for right now, we’re going to bask in the afterglow of such a wonderfully well-fucked morning. 

The brain and subconscious didn’t argue, just huffed and puffed as they worked together to finally pick the box up off the ground. Balancing the heavy weight between them, they gave each other exasperated looks, then hurried down the hall after you.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

[rantrambles]

Ever get so upset you make a Tumblr account to vent?

I haven’t even listened to The Penumbra Podcast yet but it’s on my list because it’s insanely popular and the cosplays I’ve seen are hot as hell (A+ to all the cosplayers I’ve seen you’ve done great work). Now, with the recent news surrounding the podcast, I’ll wait till it’s done if I ever do get into it. I’m Asian and part of the LGBT community but I’m not nonbinary so I can’t say much about the trans represention in the art but I wanted to add my two cents on the matter as a person of color and someone examining the situation from the outside. Also, before I get deeply into it, I’m not the only person of color with opinions on this matter so if people have their own frustrations and criticism with the racism in The Penumbra Podcast and/or the new artist they hired, definitely listen to them too. These are my own personal opinions, and I’m sure other people will disagree and that’s fine. We’re all going to have different views on this so bear that in mind. Also, feel free to correct me or add anything if I’ve missed some information. Here’s a great breakdown of the whole situation for those that don’t know what happened. Finally, I was very hesitant to post this, but I felt it was important because I make a statement at the end on how race should be presented in a podcast format so if you are interested in making a podcast and want to have a diverse range of characters, please skip to the end to read those thoughts.

I’ll start off by saying, I’m not even that upset with the new artist that The Penumbra Podcast hired. I know that statement alone is controversial but I don't personally know them, and I’m not going to judge who they are as a person by a few pieces of art they’ve made. They are the least of the problems that I have here. Since the announcement and the backlash, I’ve been scrolling through the artist’s Instagram account and I can tell why people find the designs offensive, but I’m also comparing the designs to the artist’s other work, and I honestly believe that’s just their style. They’ve exaggerated the features of just about every character they’ve made, regardless of race or gender. From what I’ve seen the sharp angles and overly round curves in the anatomy that make some of the character’s features more jarring are how they prefer to draw. I’m sure they’re capable of drawing more realistic proportions but for the most part they’re art aims to call attention, be bold, and create distinguished features. Not inherently a bad thing on its own.

And yeah I’d understand the issue if this were a scenario where the artist heard how these characters acted in the podcast and thought “hey, obviously this character is a black woman because they are super strong and therefore must have big muscles, no other woman could look like that” or “hey, this character has to be Asian because they act super seductive sometimes better draw them as such.” But from my understanding the race was already decided by previous official artists and a general description of the characters were already generated by the audience, similar to how The Magnus Archives leaned towards drawing scrawny Jon with black, greying hair and dark skin. The new artists couldn’t really change those features even if those features aren’t described in canon because a depiction that strayed too far from popular fandom interpretation would make the character’s unrecognizable to the fanbase. 

I think the reason this became such a big issue for most people is because the new Penumbra artist used their exaggerated art style when making these characters and people of color and nonbinary folks already see themselves drawn as these exaggerated caricatures all the time (with those images being used to further discriminate against them). I’m sure the artist didn’t mean for their art to be offensive, but that of course doesn’t change how it was received. 

According to some, the poses and expressions the artists chose did not fully represent the characters entirely and only served to further perpetuate harmful stereotypes, and I’ll have to take their word for it because I still haven’t listened to the podcast so I have no idea how the characters act. But again much of the criticism is based on the one line-up and doing a deeper dive into the artist’s work I managed to find artwork that was much less offensive. Here some art where Vespa is depicted in a non-violent pose and one where Vespa is in a threatening pose but not an overly violent one. Here is Peter drawn in a non-seductive pose. Hopefully, the artist truly does keep the criticisms in mind as they work on the new official art. I’m just not the type of person that wants to get the pitchforks out and cause this particular person to lose a job they seemed really excited about over their old character line-up, especially when that person is also part of a marginalized group.

Again, that’s just my opinion on that particular artist. Those who are offended by their art are still valid in how they feel, and the artist should absolutely take their criticism to heart to better how they represent the characters.

What I’m more upset about is that I think The Penumbra Podcast should never have released official art for their characters in the first place and that’s their mistake that they refuse to own up about. They have made it clear that the story was never meant to portray characters of colors, a fact emphasized by the fact they hired mostly white actors from the start. They only started releasing art of the characters to get a profit. And the thing is they know what they did was wrong. All I had to do was search Penumbra Podcast racism and there is a note on their website saying that they archived some old official art.

“We have discontinued all Penumbra merchandise that uses the original character designs, and in the meantime, any profits on the sales of that merchandise will go to the For The Gworls project. We also realize that the depiction of these characters as POC, while not appropriate for us to use in our marketing and merchandise, has nonetheless become personally meaningful to many POC listeners. For that reason, and because we do not wish to distance ourselves from our mistake, we are keeping these images on our website for archival purposes. Though we do want to make it clear that many of the main/featured voice actors are white and that we did not write the characters to represent any specific POC experience, you are, as always, free to imagine these characters in any way that you like.”

I went to their shop and they still sell posters and pins with the character’s faces on them, but they are donating it to a good cause so hopefully that stays the same. However, I still find it a little uncomfortable that they are still selling character merch and have plans to continue selling character merch. They have no right to dissuade the fans that already found representation in the characters, but they also have no right to profit off the representation that was built, regardless if they made the story. 

Let’s compare this to another piece of popular media. I love Avatar the Last Airbender and, I liked the ATLA voice actors just fine but there should have been more people of color doing voice acting behind the screen too. The voice actors for that show were mainly white too, however, the creators knew that they would be making poc characters. That’s what makes the difference. Did they still choose to go with mostly white voice actors? Yes. Could they have done better and pay more people of color? Also yes. But I’m not as furious at them because they did their research on the cultures they were basing the ATLA world off of and intentionally gave us a show where Asians could see characters that looked like them represented on the screen. The Penumbra Podcast did not do any of that. Again, they openly admitted that it was never their intention to make the character’s people of color when they made the podcast so that goes to show no research was made to properly represent specific cultures. The color of the character’s skin in their official designs therefore became more of aesthetic choice rather than representation, and it wasn’t even their aesthetic choice to begin with!

Race isn’t a color you can just throw onto the character because you feel like it. So I want this to be a lesson to anyone that wants to make a podcast: if you want to include poc characters please do some research into the cultures you plan to represent the way you would with any other form of media. Just because the audience can’t see the characters and just because it’s harder to smoothly introduce the character’s appearance doesn’t mean you’re allowed to be lazy on how you present the characters. Do research before you start writing the first episode and take the time to hire poc actors. Hiring poc actors is actually the least that can be done to show representation. Also, since the audience cannot visually see the race of the characters on a podcast and it can’t typically be described the way you would in a book, you’ll have to be creative. It’s not my job to say how, but my suggestions would be, before the fans come up with their own image of the character, you need to establish race in the first few episodes or release character profiles on a website so that the fans know you canonically intended the characters to be of a certain race even if you aren’t able to mention it in the actual podcast. If you are unwilling to do any of these then the best route is to avoid stating race at all and allow the audience to build their own representation into your form of media. However, once this happens, you are not allowed to profit off popular fan interpretations. You lose all rights to create official art or images of the characters. You cannot use “we have a diverse cast of characters” when you market your story. It doesn’t matter whether you created the content or not, you did not create the representation for those minority groups.

It’s one thing for fans to build their own inclusivity into a form of art like a podcast, but it’s another thing for the creators who never worked to make the representation happen to take advantage of the representation that the listeners built for themselves. Thank you for attending my TedTalk.

[gods-no-longer-tread-here]

I was thinking about an amazing fic wherein Geralt locks himself away in his own mind, leaving nothing but the wolf, and also one of my old friend’s fluffy h/c fics where a heat-crazed omega and an alpha who refuses to have sex with heat-crazed omegas cuddle for like 2.5 days straight, and also ace week. So. Here is this.

words: 1,737 characters: Geralt, Jaskier, Lambert, Roach, Eskel and Vesemir mentioned summary: Geralt forgets to take his meds (inspired by my own personal experiences with forgetting meds for longer than a week), and gets cuddly. Jaskier’s fine with it because it amuses him.

~

Geralt was acting strange.

Then again, he wasn’t a human, so his actions weren’t really supposed to be familiar. That made Jaskier happy, to be honest. He’d had enough of trying to puzzle out other humans; Geralt was just as complex, but far more straightforward.

But still, this fussing was out of character. He was so particular about hunting and buying food, and insisted on getting Jaskier a thick wool cape, and seemed hyper-aware of the changing seasons. Finally, Jaskier decided he wasn’t naïve enough for this.

“Geralt, why are you doing this?”

Geralt, half asleep and curled around Jaskier protectively, mumbled, “Winter soon. Gotta keep you healthy.”

Jaskier grinned, and squirmed over onto his back. “My dear, not that I’m complaining about your care, but why now?” he asked, booping Geralt’s nose.

The Witcher scowled and said, “You’re my mate. Have to take care of my mate.”

Jaskier’s heart tripped.

Geralt must have heard, because he suddenly became very awake, staring at Jaskier with wide eyes and a set mouth. Jaskier breathed in and out slowly; there was no point hiding his immediate reaction, but he should at least try to stay calm.

“Do Witchers see mates the same way as us humans?” he asked.

Geralt didn’t move for an agonizingly long moment. Then he said softly, “No. Mates are… they’re people we… you won’t betray us.”

Jaskier stared back. And then he grinned, and snuggled against Geralt, rubbing his nose on his Witcher’s collarbone. Said Witcher relaxed, wuffled in contentment much like a big, lazy dog, and wrapped Jaskier up tight in his arms.

“Mates are people you trust not to hurt you?” the bard hazarded, unable to stop grinning.

“Yes. Go to sleep, now.”

“Oh, alright.”

~

A month later, as they were beginning their ascent of the mountains, Jaskier decided that Geralt had been lying.

As soon as they had left the last human village, Geralt’s human habits began to fade into more animalistic ones: instead of cooking the few plump rabbits he was able to hunt, he portioned them out and ate the organs while Jaskier cooked the meat. He insisted on finger-combing Jaskier’s hair every night (which the bard quite liked). His movements became smooth in the way of a predatory animal, not a man with predatory mutations. Roach began to snort and sidle at times, trying to keep her distance.

And Geralt didn’t even pretend he wasn’t coddling Jaskier like a delicate maiden.

It was very odd. And yet, Jaskier didn’t really mind. Geralt wasn’t smothering him; he was simply far more attentive than ever before. More attentive than he was with Yennefer, even.

Jaskier’s breath catched, and he cleared his throat to hide the noise, trudging up the narrow path behind Geralt and in front of Roach. He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about her--not when he was going to spend the winter with his dearest friend.

Geralt suddenly turned, stared at Jaskier, and then whined as his face melted into a look of worry. If he’d had wolf ears, Jaskier thought, apropos of nothing, they would be upright and shivering.

Jaskier smiled. “I’m alright, my dear,” he said. No matter how softly he spoke, the cold stone of the mountain caught the sounds and threw them into an echo as if he had shouted. “I was thinking of something, that’s all.”

Geralt closed the distance between them in three fluid steps and wrapped his arms around Jaskier, whining and sniffing the bard as if his scent would give away his thoughts.

Jaskier felt his heart grow warm again. “I’m alright,” he repeated, leaning into Geralt’s embrace. “I’m with you, aren’t I? I’m always alright with you.”

Geralt made a wolf-like noise of happiness, and then kissed Jaskier. When his mouth opened in surprise, the Witcher’s tongue slid in and licked the inside--and not in a sexy way.

“Ew!” he shrieked, wrenching back. “Geralt, you brute, what are you doing?”

“My mate,” Geralt rumbled. It was the first time he’d used recognizable words in nearly a week. He was also smiling, so fondly and sweetly. “My pretty mate.”

Jaskier’s cheeks heated immediately, and he pressed his face into Geralt’s neck. “Alright, you win. My… my mate.”

Geralt hummed in deep contentment. After several moments, they untangled from each other, Geralt licked Jaskier’s lips, and they continued their journey.

The cold of winter was setting in painfully fast. While much of the coast was quite pleasant, Jaskier had spent many years in Lettenhove shivering through storms and snow that killed at least three people every winter--but usually more. He knew what to expect from sharp cold; he’d just never been in a place this dry and cold.

They were only a few days away from Kaer Morhen when the air pressure changed so quickly that Jaskier’s ears popped twice. The dry feeling that had seeped into his every orifice vanished as the first snowstorm began to brew; he breathed in deeply and grinned at the moisture that sank into his mouth, nose, throat, and lungs. Now this was the kind of winter weather he was used to.

Geralt growled and hustled his mate and horse along as fast as was safe.

Jaskier barely had time to feel relief at the sight of the trail leveling out before the snowstorm opened and everything became a white-and-grey blur. He and Roach both stopped in their tracks, and he called out, “Geralt?! Geralt, where are you?!”

A dark form hulked into his personal space and embraced him. It smelled and felt like his witcher. Jaskier clung to him, and tried not to think about the day he had joined a rescue attempt to find the last fishing vessel in the middle of a wild storm. There had been sirens. The sailors used a horn to drive them away; Jaskier had panicked and started singing, and the sirens had fallen silent.

He wasn’t allowed on the ocean after that, and he was very glad.

But this wasn’t the ocean. He had never realized how much he trusted solid boats and salty water before he became so acutely aware that one misstep would send him tumbling through nothing.

Geralt hoisted Jaskier up in one arm, took hold of Roach’s reins, and continued on the path.

It seemed like a thousand years before hands tugged at his cloak, and Geralt snarled viciously. Jaskier clung tighter, and did not raise his head until they passed into a space that wasn’t windy.

“Ger’l?” he whispered.

Geralt rumbled reassuringly and nuzzled under Jaskier’s hood to lick his ear; the warmth of his tongue shocked the bard’s cold skin. “Safe,” Geralt said, and set him down on his feet.

Jaskier smiled, and promptly collapsed.

~

“He won’t take his medicine, not until his mate is awake.”

“That’s so stupid! Doesn’t he want to be able to think?”

“Yes, but he’s not Geralt right now. He doesn’t have a human mind. I told him he needed to get better at making it himself…”

Jaskier opened his eyes the barest crack, and tried to make a noise. He couldn’t. He was so tired and foggy.

Almost immediately, someone was kissing his face, and licking it, and giving tiny puppy noises of joy and worry. He smiled, and opened his eyes wider.

It was Geralt, of course, looking absolutely delighted. Jaskier reached up one shaky hand and booped his nose.

“Hello, darling,” he said.

“Hello,” Geralt replied.

~

There were three other Witchers in the keep: a tired father, a calm and kind elder brother, and a pissy baby who was only a few years older than Jaskier. They stayed far away from him, although they were courteous, and provided him with food since he couldn’t leave his nest by the fire due to Geralt constantly lying on top of him and acting like a love-sick puppy. Jaskier began to worry about that merely an hour after he woke.

Four hours after he was awake, the pissy baby brother approached with a tray holding two pottery cups. He set it down near Jaskier and ordered, “Give him the blue cup, it has his medicine in it.”

Jaskier looked at the cups. One was green and the other was a soft purple. “Ah… those are green and purple.”

The Witcher stared at him, then at the cups, then back at him. “What?” he said blankly.

“This one is green,” Jaskier pointed to said cup, “And this one is purple. Which one is blue to you?”

The Witcher pointed silently, and Jaskier nodded, picking up the cups carefully and handing the “blue” one to Geralt, who cocked his head curiously.

“It’s just a drink,” Jaskier told him soothingly. “It will help us both feel better.” He sipped his own and tasted spiced cider, which made him hum in appreciation. Geralt downed his drink in three quick gulps, set his cup back on the tray… and then yelped and rolled off of Jaskier, thrashing and howling.

“Geralt!” Jaskier tried to lunge for him, but the other Witcher held him back. “Geralt! What did you do to him?!”

“Gave him his medicine that he hasn’t been taking for probably three fucking months,” the Witcher said tersely. “Watch him.”

Jaskier never took his eyes off Geralt, heart pounding with fear. After a few minutes of thrashing, his wolfish sounds melted into human curses, and when he laid still, panting harshly, Jaskier strained towards him again. “Geralt!” he cried, reaching for him.

Geralt looked at Jaskier, frowned, then looked absolutely terrified. Before Jaskier could ask, he was up and out of the room.

“Geralt?” Jaskier repeated softly.

“He’s just embarrassed,” the youngest Witcher grunted, letting go of Jaskier. “Drink your cider. He’ll come back when I leave.”

So Jaskier drank, and the Witcher left, and after a whole three minutes, Geralt slunk back in and sat beside Jaskier. After a moment, the bard lunged and squirmed into Geralt’s lap, hugging him tightly.

“Welcome back,” he said.

“I licked you,” Geralt said.

Jaskier laughed merrily and kissed him. “Yes, you did. You also played with my hair.”

“And called you my mate.”

Jaskier paused. “Well… yes. Was that a mistake?”

Geralt shrugged and wrapped his arms around Jaskier. “Dunno. Do… would you mind if… are you alright with that?”

“Yes, my dear, I am very alright with it.”

“Oh. Good.”

And then Geralt snogged him senseless.

[lepusrufus]

To bargain for immortality pt.2

Finally, she felt well enough to leave the infirmary room for good. Her internal organs were at peace for the most part and she could keep some food down without the risk of seeing it for a second time. Her sinuses still seemed to refuse to recover though. Occasional nosebleeds would have her head spinning and the scent of blood so often present within the castle was somehow too offensive to her senses. Nicole couldn't help but wonder how exactly she got it this screwed up, but then again the first few days of the infection were a painful blur that she'd rather not remember.

For now she was content to sit in front of the fireplace with the rest of her family. They decided to have a movie night to break her out of the mopey state she had been in and, for the most part, it was quite the success. She wasn't paying much attention to the projector screen, some sappy scene from a movie chosen by Daniela playing at the moment. Instead, she was simply enjoying the close proximity to Cassandra that she so dearly missed in the last few weeks. Nicole was in the brunette's lap, with hands loosely around her waist and leaning against her shoulder. She was vaguely aware of Laura complaining about the poor life choices of one of the characters only to be unceremoniously shushed by the youngest sister. It made her chuckle.

Bela was passing the popcorn to her mothers when a knock on the main entrance reached their ears faintly. Lady Dimitrescu narrowed her eyes in the general direction of the sound, and listened. Soon enough the rapid steps of Alexandria, their Steward, reached them.

"My Ladies, Mother Miranda's assistant is here."

The whole family got up hesitantly and tried to look as presentable as possible, given their "lazy day outfits". For some like Bela that was a baggy shirt and shorts, while for the Lady it was one of her trademark white dresses. They made their way to the main entrance of the castle, where the assistant, a woman in her late thirties and the air of an annoyed teacher, was waiting. It was Alcina the one to ask why she was there.

"Mother Miranda wants to see um… Nicole was it? Yes, to take a look at the regenerative abilities."

"Why not do it here like last time?"

"Mother Miranda's laboratory is far better equipped for whatever she may want to test. Unless you have something to say against her wishes." She finished that with a raised eyebrow that would've gained her a talon through the skull were she not there as per Miranda's wishes.

Who's talons exactly was debatable.

"I'll come too," Cassandra spoke up from just behind Nicole.

That only got her a dismissive wave. "No, I was told specifically to only bring her. Come now, we don't want to make Mother Miranda wait."

With that, the woman turned around and started walking towards a carriage that would take them away. Nicole looked briefly at her family. They all had either confusion or mild concern in their eyes. All but Alcina who looked as if she'd like to protest and snap at the woman but was holding her tongue.

She reassured Cassandra that she'd be fine and started jogging after the assistant.

---

Needless to say, that was Nicole's first time stepping foot inside the underground network of tunnels. Not that she complained. Few people went there willingly and probably fewer left the same way they came in.

The ancient looking hallways were in such stark contrast with the occasional medical equipment and the pristine looking labs with doors left slightly ajar that Nicole had to wonder if the woman had no taste for a consistent aesthetic. At least Lady Dimitrescu kept all wiring and modern devices carefully hidden or blended in with the castle's decor. Here, the harsh neon lights illuminated worn out stone so dark it was almost black. Not to mention the smell of… old that seemed to ooze off the very walls she was walking by.

She was led inside a spacious lab, the bluish lights above being too bothersome for someone who got used to the warm or natural light in the castle. The room was rather long, numerous hospital beds lined up against a wall, some separated by white curtains and some left visible. An almost imperceptible whiff of an all too familiar foul odor reached her nose, but it was mild enough to be easily ignored. Nicole had a suspicion that the unmoving person laying in one of the cots further away could be the source, but she sighed and hoped not to join them by the end of the day.

Mother Miranda was sat at a desk, microscope in front of her together with a small stack of documents and a laptop. She was typing in what could probably be notes on whatever she was looking at, when icy grey eyes finally shifted to Nicole.

"Get changed and lay down," she ordered, not even moving from her spot.

The assistant that had brought her here, pushed a hospital gown that had been pulled out from a cupboard in her arms. At least she was allowed the decency of changing into a bathroom as opposed to stripping then and there in the middle of the room. The gown was surprisingly comfortable, fabric folding around her body and being held closed by a loose ribbon that she tried at the side.

Once she was back in the lab, she was ushered to one of the beds where she laid down, nervously waiting for whatever Miranda had in mind.

It was quite odd to see her without her usual attire, especially without the gold talons that Nicole was now far more familiar with than she'd ever hoped. The white lab coat looked far too normal on her and, were it not for the unmistakable cold eyes and regal posture, the woman would’ve been unrecognizable.

She finally got up, a few documents in hand, and approached her. The papers were handed over to the assistant, along with a few other objects and finally, Nicole had her full attention.

Mother Miranda bent down, scalpel in hand, and grabbed one of Nicole's wrists. Just like she did back during the first examination, the blade was dragged across the length of her forearm. Despite fully expecting it, Nicole couldn't help flinching at the pain, but she kept her eyes fixated on her arm, at the blood slowly starting to flow from the wound.

Soon the same tingling as before took over the pain and before their eyes, the skin started to stitch itself back together.

"Time," Miranda asked while wiping the blood to allow for a closer inspection of the now good as new skin.

"Five seconds."

"Alcina's?"

"Three seconds."

Miranda hummed, seemingly pleased with the results. Or at least as pleased as the woman was physically capable of being.

"Hook her up to the cardiac monitor," she further instructed while moving to retrieve something from another cabinet.

The assistant, Emma, if the tag pinned to her lab coat was to be believed, stuck a series of electrodes to her chest and abdomen. Nicole bit her lip to stifle a yelp when one came uncomfortably close to the still sensitive skin of the scar.

In no time, the machine came to life, familiar beeping sounding through the otherwise silent room.

"I hope you're not afraid of needles," Miranda said while grabbing the same arm she had before, lips pulled into a faint smirk.

Nicole only shook her head as she saw the needle of a syringe attached to a transparent slim tube slide into her arm. How ironic would that be. The sting was close to imperceptible, taken over by the now familiar faint tingle. Unlike with the cut, it didn't fade away, most likely due to not being able to fully heal the small wound with the needle embedded in the skin and vein.

She looked away, in the direction of the other occupied bed in the room. It was far away enough that she couldn't make out any detail, only messy brown hair sprawled on a pillow. The face was turned towards the wall and body covered up to the neck. She grimaced and decided instead to focus on the beeping machine, mildly annoyed by Miranda's lack of properly separating her dead lab rats from the living ones. At least she hoped she'd stay living.

The numbers on the machine started out normal. With the slight uncomfortable feeling of blood being drained however, her heart rate started to slowly increase.

Alright. Normal enough. Especially when someone is clearly in a fucking blood draining mood.

Nicole decided not to look at exactly how much blood Miranda was drawing, keeping her eyes glued to the various color coded numbers. The heart rate kept increasing until Nicole could swear she could feel her heartbeat ringing in her ears. She gulped. Still relatively within the norm.

Two things were at odds however. First, the blood pressure remained constant, almost as if her body simply refused to acknowledge the fact that it was currently being drained. Secondly, the temperature rose from the normal 36 degrees to a staggering 41 in less time than it should have.

"What the fuck…" She couldn't keep her tongue at the weirdness of her situation, her brain thankfully choosing confusion and curiosity over the dread that it probably should've felt instead.

Mother Miranda didn't seem to care though as she turned to type something on the laptop that she brought over from the desk. She tapped her finger on the device for a few seconds and finally spoke up.

"The accelerated healing means the blood is being regenerated constantly, thus not decreasing in volume. Which explains the constant pressure." She narrowed her eyes at the monitor once again. "It doesn't, however, explain the heart rate and temperature. Any bright guesses?"

It took Nicole a second to realize the question was actually addressed to her. Miranda seemed in an oddly good mood. Not any less hell bent on causing her pain, mind you, but she also seemed genuinely curious. Being a biology nerd will do that to you, she couldn't help but think.

Nicole hummed and thought for a second. She tried to recall any information about the topic at hand that she had studied prior to running away.

"Heart rate could just be the normal body response that stayed even with the mutation. Like… like a reflex. It remains even though it's not needed." Then she tapped a finger on her chin trying to find a less random explanation. "Or maybe it's the body's way of making sure that even while healing all body parts remain at least decently functional. No idea about the temperature though," she shrugged.

Miranda once again typed something up and then, without warning, pulled the needle out of Nicole's arm. She flinched, barely holding in an angry protest as she turned towards the woman. Which was a mistake. She couldn't help the gag that raised in the back of her throat at the sight of the metal container full of blood.

No, no, blood did not bother her. That would've cut her career as a medical examiner short before she even stepped foot in med school. It was the knowledge that that was her blood that made her stomach churn. The container could easily fit three liters of liquid in it, and it was full to the brim. Not to mention the smell that assaulted her still messed up sinuses mixing oh so perfectly with mr. corpse over in the corner.

Miranda just chuckled at her sour expression. "Do you think your darling wife would like to have this?"

With a sneer, masked by Nicole turning once again towards the monitor, she couldn't help slipping an edge of snark in her reply. "No need, she likes it fresh."

The numbers were back to normal, all but for the temperature that was taking slightly longer to go down.

---

By this point her vocal cords were raw from screaming and each shuddering sob felt like clumps of spines in her throat. Nicole was curled in on herself, small frame trembling pathetically on top of the uncomfortable bed. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably, the tingling sensation feeling like needles constantly pricking at her skin around and under the wired leather cuffs wrapped around her wrists. The frantic beeping of the machine was grating to her ears.

An electric shock test.

Of course.

Mother Miranda decided to test out how the increased heart rate worked. Results? Her body vehemently refused to allow her to pass out. Even when the shocks traveled through every part of her body, causing the nervous system to short circuit. Even when damage to internal organs and muscles ripped painful sobs from her throat, that turned into gags as soon as the tingling turned to nausea. Even when she could feel her heart hammering against her ribcage so fast that she was sure the small organ would burst any second. But it didn’t.

Every muscle in her body flared up in a sensation of painful pins and needles when Miranda pushed the button to release another shock. The cardiac monitor started screaming again and Nicole brought shaky hands over her ears in an attempt to block out the sound. Her whole body was on fire while all the damaged tissue repaired itself, making her stomach turn painfully. She felt like throwing up. Not that she had eaten anything today, but bile and thick blood still coated her esophagus. It was all swallowed back with a disgusting gulp.

The nausea was oh so kindly accompanied by searing pain from her still damaged sinuses, who’s condition only worsened exponentially with the electricity. The blood that seemed to coat all the way up to the inside of her mouth felt horrible mixed with the putrid smell of death.

She swallowed again, but that proved itself a bad decision as now that same smell permeated the very inside of her nose and mouth and throat and the feeling of blood sloshing on her tongue behind clenched teeth made her head spin.

She lurched forward, a small river of dark blood flowing from her mouth and nose, into her palms that she instinctively brought to her mouth. Wet coughs made it splatter into crimson splotches on the white sheets, herself and anything else within proximity. It took surprisingly long to realize that, after the initial wave that rose up her esophagus, the rest of the blood was from her sinuses. It was cruelly invading her nose and sliding back into her throat only to come out of her mouth. Fuck fuck fuck-

“What’s wrong?” Miranda’s tone lacked any trace of sympathy.

Nicole simply coughed out the remaining fluid from her mouth and unceremoniously grabbed a piece of cloth from Emma’s hands. She pressed it to her nose, only to feel it soaked against her skin far too soon.

“Damaged sinuses, as you said,” she croaked, her voice sounding so unlike her own.

That made Miranda frown. She kept that same expression while noting down the previous results. “It should be healed by now.”

“Well they aren't,” Nicole spat. The blood and the horrid smell were clouding her mind and, as many knew, pain and holding her tongue did not mix well in her. “And did we really have to do this in the same room as a dead fucking body?!”

Nicole’s angry outburst gave the woman pause. Annoyance mixed with a hint of confusion on her face. She looked at her assistant, an eyebrow raised in a silent question.

“No. Just- just anestesia.” Emma answered promptly.

“What the fuck do you mean anesthesia? Anesthesia doesn’t make you smell like a goddamn decomposing corpse, do you have cotton stuck up your noses?!” Thankfully the bleeding was starting to subside, which meant there was nothing to stifle her steadily raising angry tone.

Miranda, now sporting a scowl, got up and grabbed Nicole’s chin between two fingers. It made her flinch back, but there was no escaping the iron grip.

“I can assure you that the man is not dead, simply under anesthesia and recovering from a bad infection.” She moved Nicole’s head from left to right, eyes scrutinizing as ever.

Afterwards, she turned back and wrote something down on a piece of paper and simply instructed Emma to wrap up and lead Nicole out. The sudden shift not only in demeanor, but also in her position from the bed to standing upright was mildly dizzying. She swapped the gown for her normal clothes as quickly as she physically could, not wanting to spend another unnecessary second in this underground grave.

While she was ushered out the door, Mother Miranda’s sickly sweet voice rang after her.

“I’ll see you in a couple days.”

Her stomach turned.

---

The trek home was short and silent, Nicole simply wanting to get home as soon as possible and get a damn hot shower and sleep.

She bid the young man that was accompanying her goodbye the moment the Castle’s entrance was within jogging distance, and hurried steps took her to the imposing doors. It was Alexandria to answer her knock, Nicole having left her own keys in her bedroom.

“Welcome back my la-” the polite smile was all but wiped off the woman’s face, replaced by wide eyes. “Are you injured?”

Nicole looked at her confused, then down at herself. A muttered curse escaped past her lips when she remembered the bloody mess on her skin. “I’m okay. Just-... just don’t tell anyone I’m here yet. I'll change first.”

Her plan went out the window when a set of hasty steps came booming toward them.

“Nico-”

Cassandra’s voice died in her throat when her golden eyes landed on Nicole’s small frame, dried dark blood on her face and arms and her clothes stained. An angry growl slipped from between bared teeth.

“What the fuck did she do to you?”

Nicole was quick to answer, too tired to deal with anything other than a few hours of sleep. “I’m okay. I’m just-...” she shook her head, then turned to the Steward. “Alexandria kindly ask a maid to draw me a bath.”

“At once.” And with that the woman turned and scurried away, most likely also not wanting to be in the vicinity of an angry Cassandra.

---

The hot water felt like pure bliss on her skin. It seemed to make every muscle relax and get rid of the awful tension. She leaned back, eyes closed and hands idly moving through the water.

It was just mildly difficult to fully relax with Cassandra muttering and pacing back and forth in the same room though.

"I'm-... I'm not letting you do this again."

Nicole simply sighed and started to scrub away at dried blood. The miniature red waterfall from earlier had gotten blood all over her arms and chest, some splatters even getting on her legs. Her face was also a mess, trails of blood going from her nose and mouth to the chin with smudges and splatters.

"What did she even do to you?"

Before she had a chance to reply, a knock came from the door and a maid entered with a few clean towels and a change of clothes from Nicole's own bedroom. The girl didn't linger, simply giving them both a courteous bow and exiting the room.

Looking for something to change the subject, Nicole focused on the pleasant honey smell. Honey with a slight citrus-y undertone, maybe lemon or orange.

"Did you get a new soap?"

Cassandra stopped pacing, brows furrowed. "No? It's the same one."

Confused, Nicole brought a hand that had just been scrubbed with that very soap right under her nose and took a deep inhale. It was indeed the same one. Chamomile and mint. She sighed in annoyance and leaned back against the cool porcelain while Cassandra came and bent down on one knee to be somewhat on eye level.

"Nose still not working properly or…?" She said while gingerly tilting Nicole's chin up with two fingers. She grimaced at one yet to be washed trail of dried blood that made its way to her wife's thin upper lip.

Nicole simply shook her head and grabbed Cassandra's hand. "Can you… go get ready. I'm beyond tired and just want to lay down with you."

Cassandra pursed her lips but nodded none the less. With a kiss on top of red hair, she turned and left the spacious bathroom, door shutting with a heavy thud.

Left alone, she scrubbed every inch of skin again and took a few extra minutes to enjoy the warmth of the water. It felt so incredibly odd to not feel any actual pain after the day's events. Any trace of what her body went through had been erased by her newfound ability, not leaving behind even the faintest mark of a scar, nor blackened skin caused by electric shocks.

She pushed herself out of the tub, grimacing at the slight pink tone the water had taken. Body and hair quickly dried with the towels, she put on the clothes, a comfortable pair of shorts and a tank top, and finally stepped out of the bathroom too.

Cassandra was waiting for her in bed, velvety dark robes hanging loosely on her shoulders and eyes fixated on the window while her fingers were tapping furiously on the cover of a book forgotten in her lap. Book that was quickly placed on the nightstand when Nicole climbed in beside her and pushed her way into the brunette's arms. She was tired and absolutely not above demanding cuddles.

Her wife wasted no time in wrapping an arm around her and pulling the soft blanket up to cover them both. Nicole interlocked their fingers, absentmentally turning the ring on Cassandra's finger. The same ring she had, albeit in a smaller size. A golden band with intricate floral patterns engraved on it. It had no protruding gem, something they both opted for so that the rings wouldn't need to be taken off while working and wearing gloves. Instead, eight small ocre gems were lined among the minuscule curled leaves.

It took Cassandra about two minutes to take a deep inhale and open her mouth. New record.

"Are you… are you hurt?"

Nicole didn't look up at her, the concern dripping from her words alone were enough to squeeze her heart painfully.

"No. I'm all healed up, just tired." She could almost feel Cassandra's question of clarification, but not wanting to go over what had happened down in the laboratory so soon, she opted for something the brunette would hopefully be just as interested in. "We did get some odd results though."

At the lack of any interruption she went on. "Accelerated heart rate whenever I get hurt. Can't pass out." Which was both a blessing and a curse, depending on the point of view and situation. "Also for some reason my temperature gets really high."

"You get one hell of a fever?"

"Yeah."

Cassandra tapped a finger on Nicole's hand, mentally going over possibilities. "Aren't fevers used against infections? Maybe that has something to do with it."

A small hum passed her lips. Could that have something to do with it? It was possible that her healing abilities caused a fever in order to fight off any possible infection before it even became one. Maybe it was her body's way of lessening damage as much as possible since, as the day's events showed, the old replaced tissue had a tendency to get purged. She grimaced at the memory of slowly choking on blood and went for something at least slightly more pleasant.

"Oh and… I can't bleed out. Blood volume stays constant."

She looked up at Cassandra with what could only be described as a shit eating grin. Her wife blinked, realization seeming to dawn on her together with the faintest hint of a blush on her cheeks. She coughed.

"Yeah well. I'll keep that in mind. For when you don't need to sleep."

"And deny me some fun now?" Nicole's pout was purely for dramatic effect and it gained her an eye roll.

Two slender fingers gripped her chin to keep it in place while narrowed golden eyes bored into her green ones. The pout slowly morphed into a smirk. Cassandra was not the kind of person who did not indulge in her own pleasures and that, although to a more careful extent, included drinking her lover's blood. A fact that Nicole was not only not complaining about, but also learned to use in order to push all the right buttons.

When Nicole turned her head in the uncharacteristically gentle grip to plant a small kiss on the soft palm, Cassandra finally gave in. Concern was momentarily put on hold in the name of the normalcy they both have been denied in the last few weeks. She bent down, their lips meeting into a kiss that soon turned needy with tongue slipping past sharp teeth and a hand scratching lightly at her nape. Soon Cassandra broke their kiss, but only to slowly trail her way across her jawline with kisses and small nips. She bit at the soft skin right under the jaw bone, eliciting a quiet groan right by her sensitive ear. Black painted lips took her down the neck and across collarbones, planting a kiss right in between them, at the base of Nicole's throat.

When she slowly made her way to an exposed shoulder, Nicole's hand at the back of her head guided her further up, right above where her pulse was. After an inquisitive hum against her skin, she spoke quietly.

"Since blood loss isn't exactly a problem… no need to avoid the neck really."

Cassandra hesitated for a moment, but ultimately decided to trust her wife. She placed a gentle kiss on the spot right above where blood was flowing in rhythm with her heartbeat. The same gentle kiss that was placed on the skin countless times before and that only Nicole had the privilege of experiencing.

Sharp fangs sunk into tender flesh, the warm blood invading Cassandra's mouth making her moan low in her throat. Being used to the feeling of the bite by now, Nicole simply closed her eyes with a sigh and let her body melt into Cassandra's arms. The familiar blissful ache was welcomed, even though, she noticed, it did not bring with it the lightheadedness she had grown accustomed to.

Although she wasn't aware of it, Cassandra was, in a way, a creature of habit. Every time she would drink her blood, her hand would come up to cup Nicole's cheek, thumb slowly tracing the jawline, right before she would pull her mouth away. Every time, without fail.

This time however, when that happened, Nicole kept her in place with the hand tangled in brunette hair, her voice coming out breathy when she spoke. "Go on."

Cassandra would never admit it, but her self control would always waver while feeding. Therefore, she didn't need much convincing, continuing to take mouthfuls of blood in between a satisfied groan. When she finally had her fill, she pulled back with a bashful look in her eyes. Concern quickly flashed on her face at the sight of the crimson mess on her wife's neck.

Nicole however, not wanting their moment to get ruined, took one of Cassandra's hands in her own and slowly placed a soft kiss on each knuckle. After that was done, and the downright ticklish sensation of skin patching itself subsided, she guided the fingers over the bloody skin.

"See? Healed," she whispered.

Cassandra gingerly traced her fingers over the spot, looking for no longer existing puncture marks. She smiled upon not finding them and turned to pull out a handkerchief from a small drawer of her nightstand. A ritual of sorts, one practiced more times than they cared to count over the years. Cassandra passed the white cloth over the skin, wiping away the crimson stains while her wife relaxed into the touch.

"Feeling good?" It was a remark meant to poke fun at how much Nicole seemed to enjoy herself, but the double meaning did not go unnoticed.

A smile tugged at Nicole's lips and she nodded.

In turn, Cassandra hummed. "You taste different." And, at her lover's furrowed brows and the slightest hint of alarm flashing in her eyes, she clarified. "Not bad. Just different. Slightly sweeter actually."

"Is that so," Nicole purred, the smile returning to her lips.

Cassandra discarded the cloth on the floor to be retrieved later and shifted both of them back down on the myriad of pillows.

"Yes. Now how about you get some sleep."

Nicole wasted no time in snaking an arm around her waist and nuzzling into her side. It would never cease to amaze her how Cassandra's presence could make her feel so at ease, as if nothing beyond the castle's walls existed. At that moment, she couldn't help but be grateful for her newfound ability, useful in far more ways than one.

She stretched slightly upwards, auburn hair like a small waterfall behind her.

"I love you," she whispered against cool ashy lips.

"I love you too," Cassandra replied, closing the almost nonexistent space between their mouths in a soft kiss.

It left behind a slight coppery taste on Nicole's lips, but she couldn't bring herself to care, instead readjusting her legs to tangle comfortably around her wife's thigh.

[maysbanks]

dancing in the dark.

it’s been a hot minute and some of y’all will be surprised that this came from me as i’m very anti rafe but i’ve been in a drew mood for the past couple of weeks and this kinda came from that so enjoy lmao. also i’ll come back and put the read more on tomorrow sorry i’m lazy and wrote this on my phone lol (just imagine this an au kinda thing ok)

this includes rafe being sex on legs, oral sex (female receiving), swearing, mention of alcohol and drug use etc

you’re forced to go to midsummer’s by your friends and the night ends up unexpectedly with rafe cameron three fingers deep in you

“Do you think I should wear a bra with this?” You looked over to Kiara who was stood in front of her wide mirror littered with Polaroids of you and the gang, summer yellow dress held up to her half naked body as she assessed her appearance. Your eyes rolled, a heavy sigh emitting from your lips.

“I don’t know Kie, how about you not wear the dress at all and ditch the Kook fest and stay in with me?” You tried, (about your thousandth attempt at getting her to see sense and not force you to go to Midsummer’s with her), but all you got in return was another eye roll and laugh from your curly haired friend, who turned and sent you one of her signature ‘I’m very much done with your shit’ looks.

“We’re going,” she stressed, and you whined, throwing your body back atop her bed and holding a pillow over your face in silent protest. “Stop being such a baby and get over yourself. We’re all going, it’s not like I’m just feeding you to the lions.”

She had a point, but you refused to admit it. You’d be in a mood all night if it meant you were to attend Midsummer’s, which Kie was forcing all of you to go to. She was the only Kook in your group of friends, which meant she was the only one that attended the party every year, but this year John B was also invited along due to Sarah Cameron being his girlfriend (he’d protested just as much as you when he first found out), and Pope would be there anyway because him and his dad would be working there for the night with their barbecue, and so Kie had the bright idea to invite the remaining two of you along; you and JJ.

If you were throwing a hissy fit, then JJ would be ten times worse. You could just imagine him stomping his booted feet as he refused to put on the suit that John B forced him to rent, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d somehow managed to crawl out of a window and escape the desperate clutches of his best friend. The thought almost made you laugh out loud, but then you remembered you were in a mood and clamped your lips shut beneath the silky purple pillow you still held captive over your head.

“Please don’t make me go,” you pleaded. You grunted when a sudden weight landed on your abdomen, the pillow you were clutching wrenched from your hands and thrown across the room, your eyes landing on Kiara’s who frowned down at you from her position straddling your waist. (If anyone were to walk in then and there and see you both half naked on her bed you were sure you’d give them a heart attack.) “Please, Kie. I’m begging you.”

Kie sighed. “It’s one night, you can manage for one night ‘kay. I’ve been doing this practically my whole life and I’ve survived, so can you.” You groaned at her matter of fact tone, huffing when she shifted her weight and gripped your cheeks in her hands, effectively cutting off any whining you were about to do and squishing your face between her hands. “Now, shut up moaning, get off my bed, and get dressed. You look so hot, and you’re going to look even hotter in that dress.” Her face suddenly changed, the stern glare morphing into a cheeky grin. “Who knows, maybe your night will end up with you on your knees.”

“Ugh, Kie!” You groaned, shoving her off of you and trying your best to ignore her cackle that had your lips quirking upward. Sending her a quick glare, you eyed the dress she chose for you that was hanging on her wardrobe door. “Fine, I‘ll go. But I’ll be complaining the whole time.”

• • •

Turned out Kiara was right, you did look hot in your dress. It wasn’t often that you did dress up, being a Pogue in the Outer Banks there was never really any reason to, and it’s not like you could afford it anyway. You really didn’t want to know how much the dress you were wearing cost, the expensive feeling fabric enough to make you cringe. It was pretty, the emerald green a stark contrast to Kie’s light yellow, the smooth silk cooling you down in the humid summer evening. It was a deep plunge, the sides of your boobs mildly exposed enough to have people turning their heads or dipping their eyes down to catch a glance. The skirt fell mid length just a bit under your knees, but your legs were exposed nicely due to the slits on both sides that began at your mid thigh. With a pair of heels that you also borrowed from Kie’s wardrobe, you had to admit you looked the part and some more for an evening at Midsummer’s.

“Holy shit,” Pope breathed when he saw you, standing alone at the grill he would be tending to for most of the night. “You’re wearing a dress.”

“Nice observation skills, Caption Obvious,” you sassed, still in a bitter mood over your attendance at the event but feeling a little better with a beer in your hands. Your lips curled in mild disgust as you glanced around you, everywhere you looked a rich and stuck up Kook would be stood there, nursing their expensive cocktails and whiskey with the finest suits and dresses on as they made idle chat about where they’d be vacationing to and what newest model of car they’d just gotten. “I can’t believe I’m here. Midsummer’s sucks.”

Pope nodded in agreement to your statement, looking away from you briefly to flip over a burger sizzling on the grill. “Least you haven’t got it as bad as John B, Sarah’s been at him all day, making sure that he turns up. Poor guy has no idea what’s coming for him, spending the night talking to Ward and all his rich buddies.”

Just as Pope mentioned the man’s name, said man and his family appeared at the door of the country club, making their grand entrance as usual, all eyes turning to gawk as the Cameron family stride in, Ward and Rose in front (you tried not to stare too hard at the concoction atop the blonde woman’s head, it would hurt your eyes), Wheezie just behind them, grinning at the attention she was receiving, Sarah a little behind her, dragging along an embarrassed looking John B on her arm (you and Pope shared a look and snorted simultaneously).

Your eyes, however, upon returning on the Cameron clan, suddenly couldn’t look away from the person right at the back of the group, dragging his feet with a small frown on his pink lips and hands in his pockets as he ignored all extended hands held out for him to shake and instead assessed the crowd stood beneath him, as if looking for someone. You took the time to glance him over, appreciating the way his body looked in a light grey suit, black dress shirt beneath complimenting the outfit perfectly. You’d noticed his hair a bit ago, the times you’d crossed paths or seen him around town you couldn’t help but notice it - he’d stopped gelling it and wore the dark blonde strands freely, letting it flop on his forehead in a way you thought attractive. From the last time you’d seen him he’d obviously gotten in a fight (not surprising for his character), as he was sporting a bruised cheek on his right side. All in all, he looked fucking good. And you hated to admit it, because he was Rafe Cameron. And you were meant to hate Rafe Cameron.

When his light blue eyes landed on you though, all thoughts of that kind left your mind and all that was left was the ones that had you mentally undressing him. As if knowing your exact thoughts, his lips curled into a smirk as he stared you down, neither of you breaking the contact. That lasted a whole 56 seconds (were you counting?) before the trance was broken for you, and you were knocked on the shoulder by an aggressively big hand that belonged to JJ Maybank.

“I can’t fucking believe I’m here right now,” he whined in a high pitched voice, Kie on his other side rolling her eyes, Pope chuckling amusedly at his friend. You ignored them all, turning your head back desperately hoping that Rafe hadn’t moved in the few seconds you looked away, your heart hammering wildly in your chest when he realised no, he had not, and was still staring at you from across the lawn, this time his eyes swooping down your figure and taking you all in, a hand rested at his jaw and fingers dangerously close to his lips as he did. When he was finished, he caught your eyes again, this time sending you a wink and a smile when all you could do was stare back with parted lips. “Hellooo, is anyone in there?”

You turned briefly to JJ who along with Pope and Kiara was staring at you and sending you confused looks, and you swallowed as you questioned them, handing JJ the drink in your hands he requested and denying the offer of weed. The three sent you crazed glares when you refused, after all weren’t you the one that downright refused to attend and made a big deal out of it and specifically said ‘that somebody had better smuggle in some good booze and weed to get me through the night’. But all that had left your mind the minute your eyes landed on Rafe Cameron, and you had other ideas on how to get through the night - hopefully ending up with you sat on his dick.

When you looked back at where Rafe was stood, however, you were disheartened to see that he’d moved, and when you looked around the lawn to try and spot him you saw him stood in the midst of a conversation with Topper and Kelce, his mouth moving and his words directed at them, but his eyes still on you.

Your lips pulled into a small smirk as you decided waiting a while wouldn’t hurt, if it meant the night would end up how you wanted it to, which you were positive it would as Rafe licked his lips, slowly and purposely, his eyes dancing along your figure. You just hoped it would be soon, because you weren’t sure how long you could last without feeling his hands on you.

• • •

“Fuck, these heels are so uncomfortable,” you muttered, stood off to the side with the gang as you sneakily passed vodka disguised in a water bottle between the five of you, John B having escaped the clutches of Ward Cameron and his rich buddies to join you all in complaining and making fun of the festivities that Midsummer included.

“Take em off,” John B suggested with a careless shrug, yours and Kiara’s shared scoff at the possibility of it making him frown.

JJ grinned lazily, “Nah, nah, what she needs to take off is that dress,” he gestured to you, finger pointing accusingly at your semi exposed chest. “I mean, is there even any point in wearing anything? You might as well, y’know, liven up this party while you’re at it.”

“In your dreams, Maybank,” you rolled your eyes, taking a swig of the bitter alcohol when Pope passed it to you, ignoring JJ’s return of ‘oh trust me, it will be’. “I have other plans on how to liven up this party anyways, for me, at least.”

Kie’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” She voiced the gang’s thoughts, waving a hand in dismissal as the alcohol was offered to her, holding a hand on her stomach to show that she’d had enough and felt sick. You just grinned cheekily, taking a hit of the vodka next when Pope also refused.

As if he knew exactly what you were just talking about, a voice suddenly sounded from somewhere behind you, the distinct attractiveness of it causing your head to turn and your eyes to meet Rafe’s as he stood a bit away from you and the gang, hands once again in his pockets of his slacks as he seemingly ignored the rest of your friends, eyes only on you. A smile made its way onto your face without you even realising, and it was as if John B had been shot right in the stomach when he came to the realisation, a loud groan of protest leaving his mouth.

“C’mon, you can’t be serious,” he practically pleaded, the remaining three of your friends still clueless and confused as to what was going on as they chorused their questions. You ignored them all, shoving the near empty bottle into John B’s hands and sending the guys a wide smirk and wink before you turned on your heels and made your way towards where Rafe was seemingly waiting, a smug smirk on his own pretty pink lips. “Oh my god, she is! She actually is!”

You were too far away by the time you made it to Rafe to hear exactly what your friends were saying, but you were close enough to hear their collected groans of disgust and exclaims of protest when John B had finally explained what was happening. You payed no mind, even when JJ shouted after you in warning, your feet landing you right in front of Rafe. The dirty blonde swiped his tongue over his teeth as he took you in so up close, his eyes glistening under the shine of the fairy lights hung up all over. He stared at you for what felt like an eternity before he glanced over your shoulder, taking note of your foul faced friends.

“Seems like they don’t want you to come with me,” he spoke in a low voice, the rumble of it so close to you and the suggestion of his words sending shivers down your body and right to your core.

You shrugged simply. “I don’t really give a fuck.” You informed him promptly, your words making a grin form on his face.

“Then let’s go, baby.” You wasted no time in taking his outstretched hand, letting him lead you away from the crowd and out towards the back. You had to put your full trust in him then, you had no idea as to anything about the country club, had no possible clue as to where he was taking you, but you found no issue in trusting him, the need for him to fuck you senseless the only thing staying in your mind.

It was when you landed in a hallway upon entering the building from a back door when he let go of your hand and instead raised them to your face, pulling you close to his body and your head near his as he pressed his lips against yours with a certain kind of desperation you’d never felt before. You gasped into his mouth at the intensity of it, hands moving to grip his hair between your fingers as he backed you up and pressed you flush against a wall, his knee resting between your legs.

When he pressed it slightly against you, you couldn’t do anything else but moan into his hot kiss, heavy rasps of breath escaping your chest. Rafe pulled back slightly, cheeks flushed and lips cherry red, his pupils dilated and staring you down. He did the same action, watching you this time, and when you moaned just a little bit louder and threw your head back to bang against the wall, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly, Rafe let out a low groan. “You’re so fucking hot,” he mumbled as he pressed up against you once more, hands at your hips and bundling your dress between his large digits, causing the fabric to ride up your legs just a little. “Dressed up all nice, your tits fucking perfect and practically pooling out, you like the attention on you don’t you, baby?”

You never thought you did until now, but you weren’t about to tell him that, simply nodding your head at his words in an attempt to make him kiss you again with those beautifully sinful lips. Rafe did no such thing though, instead looking to you with those pretty blue eyes as he gripped the dress tighter in his palms, the fabric moving higher, exposing more and more, his thigh pressing to you again. You let out a whine at the feel of it, lips parting in pleasure at his actions. “Let me hear you say it, baby. Say you like the attention.”

“I like it,” you gasped out, desperate for him to do something, anything, even in this dimly lit hallway where anyone could catch the both of you. “I like it so fucking much, Rafe. I like the feel of eyes on me, especially yours.”

Rafe moaned low in his throat, one hand moving to grip your jaw as he kissed you, lips moving open with yours and slipping his tongue in your mouth, the grip he had tightening ever so slightly the more time that went by. You had no idea when he'd picked you up, forcing your legs around his waist and pressing you further into the wall, his lips leaving yours to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, chest and shoulders. You almost lost it completely when he trailed further down, following the plunge of your dress and kissing the space between your tits, sucking ever so gently. “Fuck, Rafe,” you moaned when his body seemed to go down with his head, ending up with you practically sitting on his squatted knees as he gripped your sides with his large palms, holding your body to him tightly as he continued his trail of warm and wet kisses on your exposed skin.

Rafe allowed his tongue to lick a stripe of your exposed tit on your left side, the whine that emitted from your lips at his sinful action echoing in the hallway. Rafe pulled his head back from you, eyes blown wide as he looked to you. “Fucking Christ, do you wanna get caught baby?”

At the half-assed shake of your head, too desperate to feel his mouth back on you, his hands trailed down your body and instead clutched your ass, holding you possessively to him as he straightened his knees and stood straight, a gasp emitting from your lips when he did so and caused friction right to your pussy at the movement. Rafe seemed to realise what he did at the same time you did, and the moan that left his own mouth was one you never wanted to forget. “Fuck, let’s get you out of here.”

The best place available in the country club turned out to be the family bathroom. You had no time to dwell on how big the space was, almost as big as your entire living room in your house, before you were set down on the marble counter and pulled back to Rafe’s mouth once more. You wasted no time in returning his hot kiss, your hands at the back of his neck as his slid under the slits of your dress and clutched your thighs for a few seconds before trailing higher and landing one hand over your thin panties, cupping your pussy.

“Fuck me,” you moaned loudly. Rafe grinned against your lips, pearly white teeth clashing with your own.

“That’s the plan, sweetheart,” he mumbled against you and you panted as he started to move down your body, peppering kisses along your body on his way, before he landed between your legs, his palms on your knees as he kneeled on his own. “Open your legs,” he demanded and you did as asked with no hesitation, causing him to chuckle darkly. “Needy aren’t we, baby?”

Of fucking course you were, you wanted to say. You’d been waiting for this all night, you wished to speak. But you bit your tongue, not wanting to delay any action any further. When you didn’t answer, however, Rafe tugged on the back of your knees slightly, causing your ass to slip from the counter a little bit, your pussy more exposed and closer to his face as he awaited your response. “Yes, Rafe! I’m fucking needy.”

“Good girl,” he cooed, and you whined lightly when he blew on your core, goosebumps forming on your skin. Rafe bundled your dress in his warm palms, moving it so it was above your hips and you were fully on show to him, your white lace panties completely soaked through. Rafe groaned at the sight, looking at your pussy like it was water and he hadn’t had a drink in days. “So fucking wet,” he muttered, more to himself than you, and you weren’t sure if he wanted an answer to that but he didn’t wait for one anyway, pulling your panties down your legs and throwing them carelessly behind him. “I’ve been waiting for your pretty pussy all night.”

“Oh god,” you moaned when his fingers trailed along you, large digits on either side of your clit as he pressed them together and grinned when you screamed at the friction. You watched as his dirty blonde head went between your thighs, and felt his hot mouth on you not a second later. He was so fucking good, you thought, you never wanted this to end even though it had only just started, not wanting to waste another minute of your life without Rafe Cameron between your thighs.

His tongue was leaving long trails, and he flattened it out against you making you shiver. One hand left your knee to grip the back of your calf as he slipped his tongue in your pussy, your head banging against the mirror behind you. His fingers followed after, his tongue leaving you only to be replaced by his long digits as you moaned helplessly from above him, one hand gripping the counter while the other tugged on his hair. When you pulled particularly hard on the strands, he would hum against you and it would send a whole new wave of pleasure throughout your body that you had to stop yourself from screaming too loudly every time.

You could distinctly hear the beat of the music coming from the party occurring outside, the beginning of Bruce Springsteen’s smooth voice hitting your ears as he sang along to Dancing In the Dark, before the sound was replaced by your own scream as Rafe entered a second finger into your pussy, his tongue sucking on your clit simultaneously.

Everything was too much and you weren’t sure how much more you could take, feeling the familiar build of light pressure in your belly as you managed to rasp out, “Rafe, I’m gonna cum,” into the room, and you weren’t even sure he heard you before he pulled his face away, his fingers moving at a perfect rhythm and pace still within you.

“Hold it, baby,” he was saying, blue eyes staring up into your own as you shook your head in a silent plea, begging to be able to let go. The hand that wasn’t fucking you reached up under your dress and found your tit, fondling it in his palm and lightly squeezing your nipple between the rough pads of his fingertips. “C’mon baby, just a second. You think you can take another finger?”

You were practically seeing stars already, your orgasm right there within reach, but you nodded despite yourself, wanting this wonderful feeling to never end. Rafe smiled as he moved his head in closer again, pressing a kiss to your clit as he mumbled, “That’s my girl,” into you before adding another finger as promised, three fingers deep in your cunt.

The feel of his fingers fucking you, his mouth upon you, the excitement of the night and thrill of the possibility of getting caught in the bathroom at the country club, mixed with the thud of the music and low groans from Rafe was evading every one of your thoughts and you couldn’t think clearly, you weren’t even sure what you were doing, but you knew that you were begging, praising, screaming into the thick air that the pair of you had created. Rafe’s head was still buried deep between your thighs, and the sight of him down there could have ended you in itself.

“Cum for me, baby,” the vibration of his voice on your cunt had you gasping, fingers knotting in his hair as your spine curled so much that your forehead was pressed against the cool glass of the mirror you were seated against, shoving your pussy further up into his mouth and effectively causing his fingers to curl beautifully inside you. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let go.”

It hit you like a train: your vision blurred, your chest heaved, your stomach clenched, and your legs and arms turned to jelly. Throughout it all Rafe still remained there, fingers buried in you and riding out your orgasm with you. His mouth detached from your pussy and he chose to watch you come undone by him instead, his cherry red lips parted in amazement as he watched you scream from above him. You gasped as you felt his fingers leave you, opening your eyes to watch him take the soaked digits into his mouth and suck them clean, a moan of approval leaving his mouth at the taste. You had no time to register him going back in, his mouth back on your pussy and licking you clean of your cum, a loud and needy whine falling past your lips at the sight.

When he pulled back, a satisfied smile upon his glistening lips, he wasted no time in leaning up and pressing back against you, one arm curling round your back and pulling you flush against him, the other in your hair as he kissed you, the taste of you on his tongue.

“I think you should come to Midsummer’s more often,” he mumbled, and you smiled against his lips, legs wrapping around his waist and heels pressing to his ass causing him to rub against your exposed core.

“If it’s gonna end up with me getting fucked by you in the bathroom every time, then I don’t see why I should complain.” You cheekily taunted, your own lips moving along his jaw.

Rafe growled low in his throat, his blue eyes catching his reflection in the mirror behind you, watching as you sucked on his neck. He grinned to himself, a hand palming your ass as he watched.

“How about I fuck you right now against this counter and make you watch, huh?”

(Fuck, maybe Midsummer’s wasn’t so bad as you originally thought after all.)

[writingsbychlo]

strip it down | thomas

word count; 7894

summary; your best friend ask you if you’ll spend your summer break keeping fit with him so he’s ready for track returns in the fall, but he’s pretty distracting.

notes; this is based on an ask that I got, inspiring it, and it was just too good to pass up, so I hope you like it!

warnings; smut, unprotected sex, public sex, reference to injury, very brief reference to drink spiking (past tense).

You were just beginning to surface, enjoying the summer break you were getting for college, and happy to spend the summer in your own place. It was quiet, your roommate getting ready to go home, and you would have the apartment to yourself for weeks. Squeezing the pillow in your arms tighter to you, you froze, the bedding beneath you rising as it took a breath, and you jumped back.

Sitting up in your bed enough to rub your eyes, you growled a little as you recognised the chuckle that sounded, opening your eyes to find your best friend staring at you, his phone in hand as he slumped across your bed.

“Mornin’ angel.”

“What the fuck are you doing in my bed? You scare the life out of me, and it’s-” You twisted, picking up your alarm clock, one that had been promptly turned off seeing as it was summer break, to check the time, “-eight in the morning? Really, Tommy?”

“Did you know that you cuddle in your sleep?” He ignored your question entirely, and you sat up in the pillows beside him, the bedding still covering the lower half of your body as you covered a yawn, realising that you weren’t going back to sleep any time soon. “It was cute. Like, the second I got myself all comfy here, you put your head on my stomach, and a leg over mine, holding on for dear life.”

“Thomas-”

“Also, continuing with the cute cuddling thing, if I play with your hair while you sleep, you get this sleepy little smile, a-”

“Thomas!” His jaw snapped shut, turning to look at you, honey brown eyes catching flecks of the sunlight pouring in through the now open curtains, and it was no wonder you’d woken so early of your natural self, his lips pursed as he stared at you curiously. “Tell me what you’re doing here so early in the morning, right now.”

“Only if you tell me whether or not you knew that you cuddle in your sleep, first.”

“No, I didn’t know that. I’m not really a sleep-cuddler, I’m very picky about positions.” His jaw dropped, a cheeky look flashing over his features, and you held up a finger, shaking your head and shutting down the innuendo he was about to release. “Sleeping positions.”

“Just me, then? That’s adorable.” He tapped the tip of your nose, before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, standing up and stretching a little, the edge of his shirt lifting to reveal a sliver of his stomach, your eyes diverting. “You have a very comfortable mattress, is that memory foam? Anyway, the reason I’m here.”

“Finally.”

He shot you a mock glare, rolling his eyes at you. “You have to get up, because I want to go for a run.”

“And I want to go back to sleep, so that's gonna’ be a hard pass on the physical exertion. Thanks for the offer, but I’m going to keep being lazy.” He frowned, and you grinned, rolling over onto your other side and turning your back on him, and he scoffed a little. A second later, the covers that you had wrapped yourself up in were being tugged back and out of the way, a groan on your lips. “No, Tommy, let me sleep! If you’re really my best friend, you’d let me sleep.”

“No, if I was really your best friend, I’d carry you all the way back from the club on a Friday night after you called with your head in a toilet bowl because you got spiked, and stay by your side all weekend until I was sure you were okay.” He tapped his chin for a second, your stomach twisting just at the memories. “Oh, wait, I already did that.”

“That was low.”

“If you were really my best friend, you’d come on a run with me so I have company while keeping in shape for my track return in the fall.” He grabbed onto your ankles, pulling you down the bed toward him, and you yelped at the action, half of your bed hanging off of the mattress as you stared up at him in shock, his hands on his hips as he smirked. “C’mon, please? Minho is out of town, and I hate running alone.”

“Fine, but only if you buy me a smoothie fro-”

“From Annie’s Café? Blueberry, yoghurt and a dash of lime?” He reached over to the nightstand, a paper cup you’d failed to notice, and you sat up, reaching for it as your body moved closer to his, and he handed it to you. Peeling back the lid, you found it was perfect, the scent of the mixed fruits being a perfect combination. “I already got it on the way over here.”

“Okay, fine.” He cheered loudly, watching as you took a sip of the drink you had, humming happily at the taste that was exploding over your tastebuds. “Go get me some clothes.”

“You’re the best.” He held your face, peppering your cheeks with

You waved a hand in the vague directions of your drawers, knowing that he was familiar with where your things were, having helped you pack and unpack over the last few years, much like you had him, your final year of college bringing around a friendship that had lasted since the first day, and you crossed your legs on the bed, waking up a little more as you sipped your drink.

He dug through the drawers, chucking a pair of leggings in your direction, a sports bra following it, and some socks, and he stared at you inquisitively for a second, eyes scanning down along your body, licking over his lower lip. “Do you wear panties to bed?”

“Thomas!” You threw the empty smoothie cup at his head, and he ducked, laughing loudly as he avoided the assault.

“It’s a practical question! So, I know what to pass you!” You rolled your eyes, scooping up the clothes and looking over the bundle.

“Where’s my top?”

“I passed you one!” He paced back over, picking up the pink and grey undergarment, and waving it before your face. “See?”

“That's a sports bra! I need a top!”

He raised a brow, and you didn’t realise your poor choice in wording, his playful mood taking over. He moved back over to you, hands finding the edge of the bed, and he crawled up toward you as you edged back toward the pillows, placing a foot on his chest to keep him away as a smirk took over. “I could be your top.”

“Quit it, you perv!”

“Oh, so you wanna’ be on top?” He rolled onto his side, head propped up on his hand, wiggling his brows, and you scoffed, standing up with the bundle of clothing, and moving to the bathroom to get changed, his laughs echoing behind you as you went.

Shutting the door, you rolled your eyes at the muffled sounds of him moving around your bedroom on the other side of the wood, your face splitting in an uncontrollably wide grin, cheeks warm to the touch with a blush.

Brushing your hair and pulling it back into a style enough to run with, you turned on the taps, toothbrush first as you scrubbed at your teeth to clean them, drifting into your thoughts. Thomas had been your friend for a long time, the two of you having met on your first day in a freshman biology lecture, and even when you’d switched your major a few months later, he still stuck by your side. He’d been someone you could rely on and depend on since your very first day of real independence and adulthood, and so he had embedded himself permanently in your life.

You cleaned your face too, feeling refreshed as you went, before swapping out your clothes, folding your pyjamas up neatly, and unlocking the door again. Thomas had pulled the sheets on the bed neatly done, sitting on the edge, and smiling at you as you emerged.

“Ready to go, pretty lady?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be for exercise at the crack of dawn.” He looked like he was going to correct you, but your mock-glare made his lips zip back up again, standings and brushed himself down. Grabbing your keys, and locking up the apartment as you went, you let him take the small piece of metal, tucking that into his pocket too, and placing a hand on your lower back to guide you through the halls. “Just so you know, I haven’t done exercise in years. I’m going to make it, like, a mile. That’s it.”

He turned to look at you, nothing judgemental, just a fond smile as he held open the main door of the building for you to pass through first, the busy streets of the early morning crowding around you suddenly. “How about, we just go and jog around the park over there, huh? It has those nice trails through the woods, too.”

You glanced out, a hand shielding your eyes from the summer sun, a park you’d rarely had time to venture into, once on a picnic with Thomas and his friends last summer, but that was about it, and so it would be nice to explore it a little more.

Tightening your hair as you approached the edge of the grass, choosing one of the trails from the sign at the entrance of the park, quickly settling on a short one with plenty of scenery through the trees. The pace started slowly, and Thomas was happy to fill the silence with chatter as you went along, breaking out in a sweat long before he did, the sun beating down and your heart pending in your chest, throat growing dry, but you were willing to just push through it.

It truly was beautiful, the early morning sun was something you rarely go to experience, either locked up in class or the library, or catching up on much-needed sleep, and Thomas had always been the opposite of you in that respect, He was good with the mornings, the athlete in him woke him up when the sun rose, sometimes even beforehand, while you preferred late nights and the dark hours of the day.

Sunlight filtering through the trees, dogs playing in the grass of the main park before you got too far away, the rustle of leaves underfoot and the gentle breeze, the smell of flowers in the air. It was a memory you’d forgotten even having before getting caught up in college and stress, shutting yourself off as you buckled down for your education and career.

The first half-hour or so was a breeze, despite the sweat you broke out in and the pounding of the blood in your veins, you became accustomed to it, listening to Thomas talk. You held up your conversation, the two of you making plans for the summer before you returned to classes for your final college year, and you planned to make the most of it since you’d both have such unlimited time together.

In the second half an hour, the pace picked up, Thomas going quiet, occasional smiles that he gave you, before his skin began to shine from the exertion too, and you were swallowed thickly. Hair matted to his forehead, tanned skin only enhanced with veins that crawled along his forearms, blood pounding much like your own, and he was working at a faster pace than you as you became tired, only just having passed halfway around your set, jogging before you.

You tried to control yourself, but his shirt was stretched across his shoulders, the muscles in his back standing out, shifting under the thin cotton that was damp with patches of sweat, every movement of his arms making it clear, and you had to try and focus, almost swerving off of the path and tripping a couple of times as you failed to pay attention to the forest floor under your feet.

In the final third, everything went to sit. The tree covering thinned slightly, moving toward the centre of the day as the sun shone in the sky, almost directly overhead, and the temperatures were shooting up. Thomas had slowed to meet you again, growing slightly tired himself as you felt like you were dragging dead limbs along, sure you’d be achy and unable to move tomorrow, and at some point, as you’d dipped your head, you’d noticed the bounce.

It wasn’t your fault, your eyes were just drawn to the movement, almost choking on your own spit as you realised just what was bouncing under the thin basketball shorts, your eyes squeezing shut for a second and trying to clear the image from your mind, your brain going hazy and the rubbing friction between your thighs suddenly becoming prominent to you as you ran, wanting to squeeze them together.

You kept going, swallowing the lump in your throat and shaking your head clear. But then his arms were flexing, reaching behind his neck to tug his shirt away from his body, and your mind went blank. Shining abs, the smattering of dark hair between toned pecs and down to his happy trail making your mouth water, sweating skin glistening in the sun as he moved, muscles bouncing, like some kind of Baywatch audition, and you couldn't be held responsible.

Your feet got caught, a loud popping sounding before searing hot pain radiated up your leg, a cry leaving your lips as you hit the ground, rolling to as top, before splaying out in the dirt, a little dazed and confused. Thomas popped into view, concern written all over his features as he talked a mile a minute, so fast you could barely understand what he was saying as his hands found yours and he pulled you up, your eyes sweeping over him. Oh, right half-naked secret crush. That’s right.

“What the hell just happened?”

“I fell.” He let out a weak laugh, worry still holding his brows furrowed, though, and you reached out to him, smoothing your thumb over his forehead to rub away the creases in a way you’d done so many times before, particularly before exams. His features softened as you did, and he let out a little sigh, standing himself and pulling you to your feet. As you put pressure on your ankle, it gave way, and you wanted to scream, possibly even die a little, as you tumbled forward into his chest, his arms wrapping around you. “Nope, no. Ankle says no thanks, no today.”

He grinned, scooping you up under your legs, and carrying you over the grass at the edge of the pathway, luscious and thick green as he set you down, finding shade under a large tree, hidden by some bushes to shield your eyes, before he was kneeling before you. His fingers skimmed along your calf, your leg twitching as he did, before he was pulling up the edge of your leggings to get a look at it.

He hissed a little, fingers running over the patch, registering where the skin was already going hard, and the way you cried out and jerked at the touch, pain coursing through you, and he apologised each time, a sigh on his lips. “I don’t think it’s broken, just a bad strain. It’ll take a while to heal, though.”

“So much for our summer plans.” You whispered, his eyes finding yours, and you swallowed thickly, embarrassment creeping in. “I’m sorry, Tommy.”

“What the hell are you sorry for? It’s my fault you’re hurt.” it was your turn to be confused, his head dropping and eyes hidden from yours. “You could still be tucked up safely in your bed, totally not injured, but I made you come for a run.”

“Thomas, look at me.” He didn’t, still adjusting your leggings back over your ankles as he undid and retied your laces, tighter to keep pressure on the injury for now, and you hooked a finger under his chin, forcing him to look up. “Tommy, I know I complained, but I was having a  good time. I always do when we hang out, even if we are running ourselves to death.”

His lips flicked up at the joke, but he still looked guilty. “I know, but I should have just worked out alone.”

“But you don’t like that, so I was happy to come with you. Stop beating yourself up.” He sighed, trying to let the tension go, and nodding his head. “Besides, I don’t get all gross and sweaty like this for just anyone, so cheer up, that’s how you know I wanted to be here.”

“You’re pretty no matter what. Sweaty, all dolled up, glitter in your hair at a club or all breathless and sweaty on a run, you’re breathtaking.” His hand came up to sit on your cheek, a thumb smoothing over your skin. “When I wanted you to fall for me, this isn’t quite what I meant, though.”

You stared at him for a second, eyes narrowing, and his usual cheeky grin flashed up, but there was something deeper in his gaze that you’d never taken long enough to notice before. “Did you just flirt with me?”

He looked taken aback for a second, wide eyes and parted lips, before a disbelieving sound left him, and he shook his head lightly “I’ve been flirting with you since the day I met you, but thanks for finally noticing.”

“You have?”

“Uh, yeah.” He deadpanned, your head emptying once again, and you watched as he twisted his body, sitting down on the grass with his legs spread out before himself.

“You took your shirt off.” He paused, looking down at himself, and his cheeks were tinged pink when he looked back up, confused. “You took your shirt off, and my mind just sorta’ went blank, and the next thing I know, I’m on the floor in pain. I’ve been into you since, like, last year. The whole system just short-circuited as you did.”

You waved a hand up and down yourself, and he frowned, not exactly the reaction you were expecting, the fear of rejection racing through you. “So, it was my fault you got hurt?” He looked totally distraught, lips in a pout as he stared at you, and you couldn't take it anymore. “I’m really, really so-”

Pushing forwards, your lips met his, his back finding the grass as your body crashed into him, a groan spilling from him as his brain caught up. One hand sought your waist as you lay atop him, the other lacing messily into your hair and tangling the strands as he kissed you back deeply and passionately, lips gliding with yours. You held yourself up over him, the pain in your ankle disappearing as he kissed you just as eagerly, an exchange that was long overdue.

It was frantic, and needy, his mouth working against yours until the breath was stolen from your lungs and your lips were stinging, desperate for breath but never wanting to part from him, a whine leaving you as he pulled back, gasping for breath much like you were. He pulled away, staring up at you as his head fell to the grass, a finger smoothing over your face as the tomb of the other rubbed circles into your hip, tucking under the edge of your shirt to find bare skin. “We should have done that a long time ago.”

“Yeah, definitely.” You rolled your lips together, licking the taste of him from them as you stared down at his flushed face, whiskey eyes twinkling as he stared up at you. “Wanna’ do it again?”

“Fuck, yeah, I do.” He leaned up halfway to meet you, neck craned and he hummed happily, this kiss a little slower and calmer, testing the waters as the initial shock and desperation died down, and he rolled you over, your back meeting the ground as he settled above you, your back coming down to rest in the soft grass. “Been dreamin’ ‘bout kissing you for years.”

He mumbled the words into your lips, one hand finding your shoulder, sliding down a little lower over your arm, pausing a little as he found your ribs, thumb brushing just under your tits through your clothing, your breathing hitching in your throat. His kisses shifted, trailing along your jaw lightly and your hips bucked up, a groan on his lips as you brushed over him, shy heat flushing your face once again as he paused.

“I meant it, y’know. I realised not long after we met that you weren’t going to return my flirting, but I liked you so much but then, and so I decided I’d rather have you in my life as a friend than not at all.”

His teeth continued to tease your skin lightly, and you shivered under him, his hips dropping down to press against you more firmly, and your eyes slipped closed.

“Pure torture, though. All your pretty dresses, movie nights where we’d cuddle, and you’d wear my jumpers when you came over, looking so cute that all I wanted to do was kiss you until your mind was empty, and wake up to you on lazy Sundays. I want you to kiss before exams and whisper good luck in my ear, before we get to celebrate late at night. God, I’m so fucking in love with you.”

“You are?” It was a startling realisation, your body jerking a little in shock, and he grunted as your core shifted against him, his lips bucking up to you in return this time.

“You don’t have to say it back, but it’s true.”

Your hands came up to find his face, bringing him close enough that your noses bumped and breath was shared. “I love you too, Thomas.”

He whined a little under his breath, nose playing with your own, and you tugged him in closer, until his body was pressed up to yours. The temperature was rising between you, making you feel suffocated as the gaze you were being fixed with by the man set you on fire from the inside out, and you pushed him back, breath caught as you looked at him.

Your hands moved to the hem of your shirt, skin itching to be rid of it as you felt like every nerve within you was speaking with electricity, tugging at it as it was trapped between your bodies, and he moved to help. Peeling your shirt up and over your head, it was a flurried collection of movements, sports bra revealed to him once again, and you sighed a little as your back met the crisp and cooler strands of grass again, his body covering yours as he followed you back to the ground.

One solid hand came up to your thigh, hitching it up onto his hip so that he could settle between your thighs, and as the hardening cock in the thin shorts he wore pressed up to your core, you both let out soft sounds of pure bliss at the friction. Dragging a hand down along his chest, your nail scraped over bare skin, sweat and slick from all his exertion, the dips between pecs and toned muscles twitching and clenching under your fingertips, and he let out a breath sigh into your mouth as his lips found yours once again.

Wet and passionate, his tongue teasing over your lip until you parted them for him once again, and he moaned as your tongue dared to come out and play with his own. You dared your hand lower, fingers brushing across the trail of dark hairs below his navel, until a single finger was tracing over his cock, and he whimpered needfully at the feeling, his bucking up into your touch as your hand was crushing between your bodies, the noises he made making your head spin.

Cupping him fully, you squeezed tightly, and his arms over you buckled a little as you did, his lips leaving yours so that his forehead could press to your own, hot washes of quickly panted breaths coming over your face. “Sweetheart, if you keep that up, I’ll fuck you right here in the park.”

“Sounds naughty. Sounds fun.” You mumbled, a slightly tighter grip as you rolled your hand over him, and he groaned a little under his breath, dipping down for a desperate kiss. Supporting all of his weight on one hand, the other coming down to peel your touch away from him, and pinning your wrist to the warm grass over your head, shaded by the tree the two of you were partially hidden behind, a growl on his lips.

“I’m not kidding.”

“Neither am I.” He pulled back, eyes finding your own as he evaluated your words, finding no joke in your eyes and a dark look crossed over his features, rolling his lips before they twisted up into a smirk.

“You know, I always pictured something romantic for our first time together.” Your breath hitched in your throat, the tip of his nose nudging at your jaw as his lips brushed over the sensitive skin of your neck, tongue brushing as he licked at his lips, and you keened up into him. I” figured it would be after a couple of dates, when I finally manned up enough to tell you how I felt.” He pressed a delicate kiss to your skin, and again, nothing rough about it, not at all what you’d expected, and you lifted a hand to lace into his hair. “I’d take you home, strip you down slowly, kiss every inch of your body until you were breathless, and then I’d make love to you for the whole night.”

“Big promises, think you can last that long?”

“Probably not, you drive me crazy with everything you do, but I’d give it my best go.” He laughed gently into your skin, teeth grazing over the spot where your neck met your shoulders, and he gifted one hand again, to land on your jaw to turn your face to the side, his teeth biting own roughly on that spot, and a loud moan left you as you felt him do so, not enough to break the skin, but enough that there’d be a mark, and your eyes rolled back a little.

His lips sealed over that spot, sucking harshly, and you whimpered a little under his touch, swipes of his tongue thrown into the mix, slow and torturous over your sin, and there would be a large bruise you’d be unable to hide for days to come. “Tommy..”

“I know, sweetheart,” He dipped down a little further, lips working over your skin until he was kissing down toward the edge of your sports bra, the tip of his nose dragging over a perky nipple beneath the elasticated material, and he chuckled into your skin at the needy noise you made. Hot and wet kisses, placed along your stomach, until he had reached the hem of your pants, humming under his breath, his fingers latching into the sides. “Are you sure about this?”

“The sex, or the sex in public?”

He lifted his head, a laugh flailing from his lips, cheeks flushed with warm pink as he stared up at you, an adoring look in his eyes that shone right through his amusement. “Both, I suppose.”

You collapsed back into the grass, feeling his finger twitch where they waited in your waistband, before nodding your head. “I’m pretty damn sure, Tommy.”

He didn’t waste any time, pulling your pants down just far enough to fall under the rise of your ass, bunched around your upper thighs, before your hips were falling down once again, a loud giggling falling from your lips as you did, squirming a little against the floor, and his fingers paused in their motions along the bare skin of your thighs that had been revealed as his brows rose. “What’s so funny, angel?”

“The grass is tickling my ass.” You mumbled, and he paused, your head lifting to look at him in the silence, and his face was split in a wide grin, trying to choke back his laugh as he stared at you, shaking his head.

“You totally just ruined the moment.”

“I did not!” You grinned, giggling as you spoke, before sitting up and moving to your knees, spreading your legs as far as you could with the stretchy material still around your thighs to kneel before him. Taking his hand in yours, you pulled it down, watching as he swallowed thickly, eyes still locked together, and his breath hitched as the back of his palm brushed over your yoga pants. The tips of his fingers traced over your sodden folds, your teeth caught prisoner between your teeth as his jaw dropped, and he took control then. “See? Totally not ruined.”

“You will be,” He mumbled, a threat that had your head spinning, and he was firmer in his movements now, a single digit swirling through your wetness and dragging up until he was bumping against your clit, a sudden cry leaving you as he did, and your fingers dug into the skin of his wrist. “So wet, sweetheart. That all for me?”

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut as he began to trace slow circles onto the small bud, and he hummed under his breath.

“Thought about this so much, the way you’d look when I touched you, how you’d sound moaning my name, the way you’d feel as you came around my cock. You’ve been all that’s on my mind for so long.”

“Tommy..” You sighed his name out, pushing him a little further, and a dark chuckle left him as you tried to get more, feeling that sam wet pad brush over your entrance. “Please?”

“Use your words, I want to hear you say it.” His other hand came up, cupping your jaw, and you could feel his eyes burning into you, voice becoming raspy as he spoke low and quiet, words for only you to hear as the two of you tried not to draw too much attention to yourselves. His thumb brushed over your chin, dragging your lower from where it was held to press on them, stinging slightly from the scrape of your teeth, before you were parting them, allowing his thumb to press to your tongue. “I want to hear everything that this dirty little mouth has to say, go ahead and drive me wild, angel.”

You hummed around the finger in your mouth, hips bucking up into him as he circled your hole, never dipping inside but make sure to rub across you just enough to catch, making you absolutely desperate, feeling your juices flooding down onto his hand and smeared between your thighs as he kept this up. Sucking tightly on the finger in his mouth, he let out a broken moan, pushing his finger in further to keep you quiet, before one long finger was dipping into you, as far as he could reach.

The teasing, the build-up, everything had been overwhelming, all too much for you, and your whole body trembled at the simple addition, feeling him still as you acclimated to the invasion, before he was curling his finger to press at your walls lightly. “Nothing to say, so soon? I was hoping I’d at least get my cock in you before you were fucked senseless.”

He pulled that wet finger back, smearing over your china s your gasped for breath, and you opened your eyes to look at him. “You really want to know what I think about?”

“I really do.” He pulled back, beginning to set a slow rhythm with his finger, pumping in and out of you slowly, and you needed more. “You ever thought of me while touching yourself like this? I’ve thought of you, when my hand was wrapped around my cock, thinking about how much better it’d feel if it was you. Your hands, your mouth, this sweet little cunt, always you, though.”

Your hands ran up his shoulders, coming up to sit over his neck lightly, feeling the erratic throbbing of his pulse under your hand. “I think about your mouth, all the fucking time.”

Pink lips formed a smirk, his finger being joined by another and beginning to stretch you out picking up pace, and you could feel the knot within you beginning to wind up tight, pulling and twisting as you felt butterflies begin to explode for action inside. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, you don’t know how much you mess with it. You’re always licking your lips, and making these little smirks, and your cute little smiles, You rub at your jaw, and oh God, don’t even get me started on your hands.” You let out a gasp as the tips of his fingers found your sweet spot, exploring within you as he learned what made you tick, what made you moan.

“Right there?”

“Right there!” You confirmed, breathy exclamation of the words, and he focused his attentions on that, your mind going blank as pleasure raced through every vein in your body. You’d wanted this for so long, this kind of intimacy with your best friend.

You were close, close enough that he had a key to your apartment and stated over frequently, close enough that he’d seen you in your underwear before and close enough that you’d shared a bed, cuddling on nights when you were stressed before exams, showing up at his place in sweatpants with tearstained cheeks, and he’d bring you inside without a word.

This was what you wanted though, you wanted his lips on your own, kissing away every sound you made as it became more frantic, a wet sound filling the air, smacksmatchinging of your lips and the atrociously dirty sound his finger s made as they thrust in and out of your wet channel, a peak like no other beginning to take you over, even from the simple foreplay, purely because it was him. “I’m close..”

Your words were mumbled against his lips, and he only groaned under his breath, the palm of his hand brushing over your clit with every movement, the sparks of electricity it created were running along every nerve you had, and you rolled your hips down into his hand, searching for more of that friction as you chased your high right towards the edge. “I can feel you, baby, squeezing my fingers so good. Can only imagine how good you’ll feel milking my cock.”

“Thomas!” He recessed down roughly on your g-spot, nails brushing over your walls lightly each time he pulled back, a combination of filthy sensations that made tears line your eyes as it all became too good. “Tommy!”

“C’mon, baby, come for me. Make a mess on my fingers, like I know you want to.”

His words threw you over the edge, deep voice and dark tone, your face pressing into his neck as you cried out his name, muffling your sounds in his skin as you came, juices washing over his digits as he pumped you through it, shushing you lightly, a mixture with praises, telling yo how goo you were dong, and it made heat crawl along our skin to your cheeks as you realised how much you liked it.

You’d always been independent, relying only on yourself, and then Thomas had stepped into your life and forced you to depend on him just as much, and as he coaxed you through your climax, mumbling sweet whispers about how good you were for him, you crumbled to nothing under his touch. “Feel better, honey?”

“So good.” You whispered, walls fluttering as his hand pulled back, and you retracted yourself from his body long enough to watch him stick his fingers into his mouth, one eye dropping in a lazy wink as he licked the clean. Your hands slid from his shoulders to his chest, letting out a contented sigh as you looked at him. “God, you’re so fucking hot.”

His chest puffed up a little under your touch and at the compliment, your finger moving in feather-light patterns over his chest, making him shake a little as you moved. He moved you, back, laying you down in the grass, slow and intimate, his body covering yours, kneeling between your thighs and moving to peel one leg free of your leggings, your shoe dropping off at your foot and skin raising with goosebumps at the summer breeze washing over flushed skin cooling you down immensely. His hands were supporting him on either side of your head another question about whether you were sure, but this one was unspoken, a look in his eyes said it all.

Dragging your hands along the bare skin of his back, you found the shorts he wore, basketball style, thin and silky under your hands, and you pulled on them, inching them down and far enough over his ass for his cock to spring free, wet and dripping with precum, bumping against you sodden folds, and you took a sharp intake of breath at the feeling.

His hips thrust up, instinctually as he twitched, the swollen head of his cock pumping to your clit, and the both of you let out soft whines at the feeling. Reaching between your bodied, your fingers wrapped around him, his lips parting and eyes sliding shut as you gripped onto his shaft, a few test strokes as he fucked up into your fist, before you were nudging his cock down, lining him up perfectly.

Sinking into you, his hands gave way at the bitten-off cry of your name that he made,  dropping from his hands to his elbows, bodies pressed flush together as your hips sat snugly together, his throbbing length encased within your walls.

“I feel like I just went to heaven.”

You giggled, the movements making you tighten around him and he groaned at the feeling. When you were both ready, you circled your hips against him, rocking up into him slowly, and he reached down to latch a thigh up onto his waist again, no obstruction as your bare leg came up to his body, wrapping and holding him tighter.

“I promise, next time, it’ll be after a date. Something fun and romantic, and when we get home, we’ll be all alone, and I’ll take you apart piece by piece until you're crying my name, but not right now.” His lips brushed over yours, his head tipping to the side a little, before you could fee his cheeks twitch in a smirk. “But right now, I just want to fuck senseless.”

“So do it.”

“I intend to.” He pulled back, almost all of the way out of you, before he was slamming back into you, no warm-up or time to adjust, you back arching up from the grass as you met him, and you barely covered a loud moan with your hand before he was repeating the motion, a grunt on his lips as he did.

Your nails raked over his back, tearing welts into the skin as he picked up to an earth-shattering kind of pace, and just as promised, you were left speechless, absolutely fucked senseless. It was pleasure like none you’d ever felt before, stretched out around his length, long and thick and your breath was punched form your lungs as you gasped for breath with every thrust that he delivered to you. Leaning up, you caught his lips with you own, a kiss that he was eager to return as he let out a soft sound at the connection, lips puckering immediately to return the love, and you smiled against him.

Shifting your hips up to meet him, skin was clapping against skin, drowned out by the sounds of fresh water and birds chirping around you, distant chatter from the other sides of the bushes and trees that you were hidden behind. It was scandalous, the thrill that anybody could simply walk around this side and catch you, half-naked with your loved ball-deep inside of you,  hand over your mouth as you tried to quiet your screams, you weren’t sure what you’d do.

Slipping your other hand between your bodies, you found your clit, rubbing patterns on it to match his thrusts, the high within you building up to reach cosmic peaks. Locking your legs around his waist, you flipped him over, a grin on his face as he found his back pressed into grass, your centre sliding along his length as you sank back down, seated across his thighs.

“Oh, so I take it that you’re feeling better.”

“I’ll probably regret it later,” You whispered, a jolt of pain sparking along your body as you caught your ankle at an odd angle, face screwing up lightly, and Thomas sat up to meet you. Wrapping your legs around his waist at a more comfortable angle, you let out a little sigh, his hands on your hips helping you to move. “That’s better.”

“Mhm, I’m glad.” He whispered, and you whimpered, hands coming up to wrap around his neck as you leaned in, close enough that your lips brushed, heads pressing together softly, and he circled your hips slowly. It was special, breath shared, and while it may be risky and erotic because of where you were, heated circumstances throwing your hormones into overdrive, you knew it wasn’t a mistake, it was the first step through the doorway you’d both been lingering outside of without realising the other was there. “I’m close, sweetheart.”

“I know, me too.” You whispered, picking up your motions and rocking yourself down into his body, every pulse of his cock making stars flash behind your eyes. Slipping a finger between your lips, he brushed the pad over your tongue, waiting for you to soak the digit before he was pulling it away, his mouth closing over your own, hand slipping between your bodies. He tweaked at a nipple through your sports bra, chuckling in the kiss as you whimpered his name, before he was finding the swollen bud between your legs. “Fuck, Tommy!

Rubbing lightly, he had barely begun, before you were tumbling into orgasmic bliss in his arms, locking up around him, body going rigid and your heart feeling like it stopped in your chest as you came undone. He held you tightly, your bodies pressed together, fingers laced into his hair, mouths sliding together in sloppy kisses as you tried to keep yourself somewhat quiet.

Only moments after you came, he was chasing right after you into your peak, his eyes rolling back in his head, tone raising just a little as he moaned your name, cracking slightly and you felt like you’d broken just hearing him say your name in such a way. Ribbons of hot cum filled you, making you shudder as you felt chilled from the outside as he pumped you full, and you felt tears line your eyes. “Oh, fuck.” You whispered, words dragged out as you felt your heart race in your chest, beginning to come down from your high. “That was incredible.”

“That’s an understatement.” He mumbled, lips moving along your jaw in sweet kisses, pressing gently as you waited to catch your breath, sweaty skin now even slicker, the run having had nothing on this kind of activity, as you came down, he flipped you over pressing you back into the grass so that your legs could unwrap from his waist, letting him pull away from you and collapse down onto the sun-warmed ground beside you. Tugging his shorts back up, you stared down at your one bare leg, your shoe metres away, and you groaned, trying to sit up.

A cringe was on your lips as you felt arousal still leaking from your core, and he chuckled, lifting a hand to brush lightly over your skin, watching as you tried to readjust yourself without putting too much pressure on the ankle that was still injured.

“Do you want to get a pizza?”

“What?” You turned to stare at him incredulously, snickering slightly as you reached for your shoe, and bringing back the shirt he’d dropped long ago as you did. Lacing up your shoe once again, you turned to face him, finding him still staring at you.

“Movie night. Me and you. A date. Pizza or Chinese food?”

You grinned, plucking your shirt from the bush-branch it had landed on after being flung away, trying to turn it the right way out once again. “Pizza works for me.” Your words were whispered out, a light sigh as you realised it was officially, and Thomas sat up upon hearing the crack in your voice. Settling a hand over your cheek, he pulled you down to his lips, a smile pressed between you as he gave you a simple kiss.

“I meant it, y’know. Everything I said, about how much I care for you, and how into you I am. I honestly do want us be a couple, have for a while.”

“I’d like that, too.” You mumbled, accepting the hands he was holding out to you, pulling you to your feet before letting go to tug his shirt back on over his head, a wisecrack on his lips about not wanting to cause any more injuries, and hide the marks you’d made on his back. As you stood up and balanced with weight on your ankle, you tested a first step, sighing a little. “Still hurts.”

“When we get back, I’ll get an icepack for you, and let you put your feet in my lap while we watch movies.” You huffed, his arm wrapping around your waist to help you go, and you twisted to look up at him a little.

“I’d rather be in your lap myself.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, turning to press a kiss to your temple. “That works too.”

“I should hope so. Your lap belongs to me now, girlfriend rules.”

“Alright, well that means that cute little butt belongs to me. Boyfriend rules.” His hand slipped down, pinching at your ass lightly, and you jumped, swatting at his hand as you steadied yourself and rebalanced on your feet, wincing at the pain on your swollen ankle.

“You are going to injure me even more.”

“It is not my fault that you can’t keep your eyes to yourself.” You gaped, shoving him with your elbow as he snickered. You continued on you walk, moving in slow and cautious steps as you began to make your way back to your apartment, hoping your roommate wouldn't be home to witness the messy state you were in, grass stains on your pants and Thomas’s knees, because she’d put it all together in seconds. The hand on your waist squeezed lightly, pulling you out of your thoughts and back to the moment. “I’m joking, you have o idea how many times you’ve distracted me.”

“Now you can do something about it.”

“Yes, I can.” He beamed, dipping down to press a soft kiss to your lips, and you returned it, heading home for the first date for the man you’d adored for so long. Maybe exercise was good for something.